Unknowns, Part the Fourth
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: The battles won the demons vanquished, but is there truly peace? One must look back to go forward. Everyone has a shot at redemption-but who will reach out to take it? NM/SS, OC (Kitty)/HP, DM/AG, RL/OC, CD/OC, SB/OC (Cara), DR/DC, DC/GP, DR/OC, SM/OC, CC/CM. M, AU
1. Weight

**A/N: Welcome, welcome to this fourth part of my Unknowns series! If you've not read any previous parts, you could start at Part 0, which is in progress, or Part 1, which is quite finished. However, you MUST read Part 2 and 3 before starting here, or you'll be quite lost. If you choose to read this part concurrently with or prior to Part 0, there will be spoilers for that part here. However, they are meant to be consumed close together.**

 **I will post weekly, on Saturdays, to both Parts, however reviews to ANY part of the series are tallied, and 15 reviews in a week earns a bonus to both parts, and a further fifteen a second bonus, and so on. Reviews must have at least two words to be considered valid for the tally, and questions will be answered at the Q &A section at the bottom of the chapter.**

 **Excited to start this ride with y'all! Cheers!**

 **-C**

 **September 2029**

Six years after his retirement, Severus still woke every morning wondering why he was not at Hogwarts. It took moments after seeing the elaborately painted ceiling before he remembered he was at Malfoy Manor, in the East wing. He did not share a bedroom with Narcissa, as tempting as it would be, even in her current state. Severus would never have been bold enough to ask, and Narcissa was far too sensible to offer.

Propriety would have forced him to decline, anyway.

He was not her husband, or her fiancé, or even her lover. He was simply someone desperate to help her live, if it were possible for her to live, and he still was not certain if it were possible.

His body seemed attuned to the first of September, so without checking his calendar, he knew the date. Instead of preparing a ridiculous speech for a ridiculous feast Remus assured him was essential, Severus went through his typical daily routine: he pulled himself out of bed, crossed to the attached bath, showered and dressed, and went down to the dining room for breakfast.

Narcissa had not breakfasted in the dining room for almost a year. She'd not been well enough. Instead, Severus shared breakfast with Draco, Scorpius and Astoria, discussing politics and advancements made in treatment. Astoria's virus had kicked in, no longer dormant. Estimations were another fifteen years, if they made no further advancements in treating the disease.

As soon as Severus finished his modest breakfast, he took his leave. It would not be long until Draco and Scorpius left for the Ministry, and Astoria was well enough to look after herself until Severus had seen to Narcissa.

The light was low in Narcissa's bedroom, as usual.

"Have you eaten, yet?" he asked, skipping the customary pleasantries. They had not bothered with them for several years.

"I'm not hungry."

Severus said nothing. He would have the house-elf bring her something, and he'd make her eat if he had to. But he wouldn't have to. Narcissa knew it was important to eat. He sat on the edge of her bed, pouring out exact measurements of her potions and watching her take each one with a sour face. He took her hand when she finished, feeling the skin shift, too much flesh loose on her bones. She no longer had the muscle mass her body required. An eerie reminder of Lucius's final months.

He kissed the hand and she sighed, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

"Do you miss the school?" she asked, brushing a bit of hair out of his face as he looked up at her again, not relinquishing his hold on her hand.

"Never."

Not a lie. There were things he missed about teaching, but much of it had to do with the company he kept while at Hogwarts. He still kept that company, just less often, and Narcissa was infinitely better company, even in her present condition.

She did not seem to believe him, but he knew there would be no argument. They never disagreed. At least, never out loud. A waste of precious time and energy, when there was no way to know how much was left.

/-/

As soon as Severus went to check on Astoria for the day, Narcissa ate as much of the breakfast brought to her as she could stomach, and then she set aside the rest. Her stomach seemed to shrink every day.

Strange to recall a time when she'd been the one responsible for caring after the infirm. Her own husband, as he died. Harry and Catherine on their detox. She could still recall how dull and lifeless Catherine was for weeks.

Severus was kind to her, but not doting. He was careful with his words, with his actions, with propriety. But as death crept closer, Narcissa wondered what mattered about propriety. It all seemed so pointless, and she thought of her uncle, Alphard. She closed her eyes, recalling how he'd helped Andromeda run away, how he'd always supported Sirius's defiance of authority and propriety. He'd been so bitter about their world, but Narcissa was not like her sister or her cousin. She was too much like Uncle Orion, and she hated him for the likeness. She hated him for not being more like Uncle Alphard, as though all the things she didn't like in herself were because he wasn't like Uncle Alphard.

The closer she came to death, the more she wondered what she'd been doing with her life in all the years since Lucius's death. Charity luncheons, machinations for her son and grandson in their careers, helping Astoria in motherhood and society. Not time wasted, but perhaps not as fruitful as the years Lily Evans had spent making everybody else's lives better. The most selfless thing Narcissa ever did was detoxing Catherine, and even that was for family.

She checked the clock.

Severus would be back soon, within the half hour, and she wanted to impress him with her strength, even though she felt weaker than she had for weeks. He worried enough without giving him extra reasons. Very carefully, she helped herself out of bed, carefully staggering out to her balcony, frowning at the cold, almost shivering garden. She sighed, looking out at the roses. Sickly, lifeless, as she felt.

Narcissa closed her eyes and thought back to her early childhood, seeing a woman – the most beautiful woman Narcissa had ever known – who had only to touch a plant for it to bloom its brightest in an instant. She thought perhaps she remembered it in an exaggerated nostalgia, but Madam Selwyn had been a remarkable woman, for all her faults. Otherwise, she could never have produced such a daughter as Cara, strong as steel and special enough to entrance Sirius. And otherwise, she would never have won over a man as remarkable and particular as Uncle Alphard. No, Narcissa preferred to believe her childhood memories were true, that Madam Selwyn truly did accomplish such things. Even though she could not understand how it might be possible, she preferred to believe in something impossible that brought order to the rest of her life.

/-/

Lily arrived at Malfoy Manor with her usual case of files and ingredients, checking in on the progress of both Malfoy women while the men were at the Ministry. She checked in at least once a week, and had regular updates from Severus and Sirius about how they looked and seemed.

Severus greeted her in the foyer, kissing her hand.

"How are…things?" he asked, purposefully vague.

"Oh, about how one might expect," Lily said with a sigh. "I've got a piece due to Luna on Thursday about the progress the viral treatment has made. And that's after it goes through Persephone. The Foundation for Goblin Welfare has a board meeting Friday evening, the only time we can all make it. Ourania's been trying to corral us all for weeks. I have financial reviews of both clinics due this weekend, or Ministry funding will be pulled. Draco can only do so much. And I must spend most of next week in Department meetings, capping it off with a Department review session with Draco next Friday. I haven't got time to sneeze. And James has the nerve to think he's busy. All he has to do is teach."

She saw Severus's lips twitch, knowing he was biting back telling her there was a great deal more to James's position than merely teaching. Especially now he was Head of Gryffindor House, since Remus took over Severus's position. Mercifully, James had no interest in being the Deputy Head. Not that putting two Marauders in charge of something was ever a wise choice.

"I know of no one busier, apart from perhaps Mrs. Longbottom."

Lily hummed and smiled. Hermione Longbottom was a revelation, and reminded Lily frequently of herself. Hermione also wrote for Luna's publication on occasion, also was on a board of directors for an activism organization, also ran her own enterprise, also had Ministry responsibilities – albeit as an Office Head and not a Department Head – and on top of it helped Neville run his side enterprise of the family greenhouses, which was one of the most prominent ingredient suppliers in Europe. The Potter & Whitby contract was a substantial source of that prominence, but they did a great deal of other business, as well.

"She is quite a force, isn't she?" Lily said, grinning. "And how is Narcissa this morning?"

Severus sighed, rubbing his eyes. Lily knew the strain of watching such a strong woman he cared for waste away was wearing on him, but she said nothing. She'd learned long ago men wanted to maintain their illusion of solitary strength, even if it was only an illusion.

"She is trying to fool me. She attempts to look stronger than she is, sitting in the balcony chair instead of in her bed. But I know."

Lily hummed, pulling out a file to show him the progress the Epidemic and Disaster Squad had made.

"Doris's latest report?" he asked, taking it. Lily hummed again, eager to share with him all the progress made before she looked in on the patients.

/-/

Draco sat down in his office and took a few deep breaths. Percy Weasley and Emma Dobbs would be checking in shortly, but he felt he needed a few minutes to himself, just to think about how he would attack the matters at hand. Astoria's hands had been shaking, although she showed signs of the false remission. A year, maybe two of the false remission. Briefly having his wife back, and in ten, fifteen, maybe twenty years she would be as weak as his mother.

He'd seen all the reports from Madam Potter's office, and the reports were progress. They'd worked hard to overhaul the healthcare of the wizarding world using their combined positions of familial power to haul their society into the modern world. Vaccination was normal, health screenings of Muggle-born children entering their world a must. The Muggles all understood, even if the wizarding parents were puzzled by the concepts of preventative medicine.

Hopefully, he mused, no one else would lose what he'd all but lost to this illness, or others like it.

A knock at the door.

"Minister?"

He bit the inside of his lip. Percy had arrived, and Emma Dobbs would be coming shortly.

"Enter," Draco said, sitting straighter, opening his diary to determine what his schedule was for the day. Completely packed, as usual, but he'd managed to carve out fifteen minutes for himself in the afternoon. The negative of working lunches was he had very little time for himself.

Percy poked his head in and smiled before pulling the rest of his body in, pressing his glasses up his nose ways.

"Good morning, Percy," Draco said, rubbing his jaw. "How is the family?"

"You've heard about Lucy recently," Percy said brightly. His daughter reported directly to Madam Potter. "All is well in the Artefact Accidents office in Birmingham. Things are good across the board. I suppose you don't want to hear the tales of the whole extended Weasley clan."

"As interesting as I am sure that would be," Draco said with a small, sympathetic smile, "I can't say we could spare the time."

Percy nodded. The Weasley clan did wide and various things, although several of Percy's brothers were running a prolific joke shop business. He quickly asked Percy to sit to avoid the inevitable questions about Draco's family.

Draco didn't like to speak at work about his wife and mother. The world knew why he pushed so hard on the health initiatives. There was no need to discuss it on top of everything else. He thought of the slight tremble in Astoria's hands that morning and he wondered what Madam Potter would have to report after her weekly visit to his home.

But he could not imagine it was anything positive.

/-/

Astoria submitted herself as gracefully as possible to the examination by Madam Potter while Severus read over the research brought along with test kits and medicine. Fresh ingredients and even some specially brewed potions done by Madam Potter's daughter-in-law.

"I've heard Columbine Peakes has moved in with your son and his family," Astoria said conversationally.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, it's a large house, and Colly certainly is all but part of the family. I expect the girls will be getting a flat sometime soon. They're waiting until Colly's saved up enough to pay her half. Wants to pull her weight."

Astoria hummed, but she knew the truth. Catherine had confided in Draco that her daughter and Columbine Peakes were in a relationship. She'd mentioned it because Scorpius had expressed…interest in potentially courting Cynthia, and Catherine felt it prudent to spare Scorpius the embarrassment of a refusal. She let Draco spin it how he wanted to Scorpius, who took the matter very well.

Astoria could understand the secrecy. There was plenty of it in their world, for all kinds of reasons, and while she saw no problem with Cynthia having a lesbian relationship if their parents didn't mind, she knew the kind of gossip it might cause.

Not bad press. Not when Blaise had bought out every news agency in England and Ireland, and several outlets in France. He owned the news media, including wireless, and even the social pages and gossip columns were carefully curated by Dennis Creevey. In fact, Columbine Peakes was the editor of the society pages, so the odds of her love life ever making the page without her wishing it were nil.

"This is all very tiresome," Astoria said with a sigh when the final blood sample was taken. "I don't suppose you'll have my results tonight?"

"It's possible, but don't hold your breath," Madam Potter said with a kind, light tone. "I've got a backlog of things I've put off. I'll do it first thing in the morning, though, before my toast if you'd like."

Astoria said quickly that Madam Potter shouldn't trouble herself, but she knew the meaning was understood – she was far more nervous than she'd dare let on, and Madam Potter would certainly process the tests at first opportunity in the morning, and give Severus the results right away. It would be nice to have some sense of where she stood. It was fairly clear she was close to being in full false remission, but what her timeline was, what she would have to present in a sugar coat to her husband…. That would depend on the practical facts presented by Severus and Madam Potter.

"Is that all you need?" Astoria asked stiffly, and Madam Potter said it certainly was. She also asked if Astoria had any questions.

Astoria assured her there were no questions, but the unspoken one hung between the two women, as it always did on these unfortunate visits, unanswered.

 _Can you save me?_

/-/

Catherine woke with a start from her nap and checked her watch. She'd meant to accomplish more on her article when she put Charles and Melinda in charge of the Birmingham branch for the day. And after closing, she was meant to meet up with Kevin, look over the books, fill special orders. Too much to do and not enough day to do it all.

She was startled by Harry sitting beside her on the settee, kissing her jaw.

She flinched away, and his body stiffened. Catherine bit her lip, wishing he wouldn't startle her like that. He was beginning to notice. And she had to do something before she lost him, the one truly good thing in her life.

"Sorry, I was just thinking," she lied.

"You mean waking," he said, teasing. Oh, he'd noticed, he was just trying to cover the moment in humor. She sank into the conversation as he told her that he'd started looking at flats for Columbine and Cynthia in Oxford. Not that he minded having them in the house. Not that they minded having someone else in the house. In fact, Catherine rather dreaded them leaving.

Ever since Cynthia came back from the continent, Catherine had felt something was wrong with her. She didn't like emptiness, she didn't like being alone, but she also felt every time Harry touched her that she didn't deserve him to be so close, that something she'd done was so terrible, he should never forgive her.

Only she didn't know what it was.

For six years, she'd toiled over her shared apothecary empire, provided a steady stream of potions for the Ministry's medical initiatives, as well as private clinics and specialists. She even wrote the potions research articles for Luna's academic relaunch of _The Quibbler._ She sat on the board for Hermione Longbottom's house-elf organization. She was a remarkably useful member of society.

But she didn't feel right, about herself or about her marriage, or even about the bed she slept in.

"I suppose Oxford is reasonably between Hogsmeade and Cardiff," she said, letting her fingers trace through Harry's hair. "They're more centrally located here, though."

"Yes," he said, leaning in to her touch. "But Oxford's more likely to have flats than way out here, love. And they don't want a house yet. And your mother will love visiting them. They're close enough to the cottage, they could go there for all their meals, if they wanted."

Catherine hummed. Both her parents would like to have Cynthia so close. Especially her father, in his retirement. Showering Cynthia with attention would give him more to do, something to focus on.

"Sounds reasonable," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Will you write this article for me?"

"I don't know the first thing about brewing," he said, laughing as he leaned in to kiss her jaw. This time, she had enough warning not to flinch or tense.

She sighed and said, "Well, if Cyn writes it, will you edit it?"

He laughed again, asked what she wanted for tea, and went downstairs to start cooking as soon as he had his answer. Catherine closed her eyes and wondered where to begin, looking for her answers.

 **A/N: So, Severus is living at Malfoy Manor, the wizarding world has created more infrastructure for health care but it might be too late, and Catherine struggles with feelings of shame and guilt she doesn't know how to explain or justify to herself.**

 **Review Prompt: Anyone care to throw out a body count for this section?**

 **Q &A: I answer your questions here, about anything and everything!**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	2. Heather Cottage

**A/N: Here's your first earned bonus in this story! And yes, I'm updating Part 0 as well, for those reading both.**

 **-C**

Although their relationship was largely repaired, Adrasteia was still not quite used to meeting her cousin for lunch. Mostly, Catherine was too busy for such things. When she wasn't working, Catherine seemed to spend all her time with her husband, her parents, her daughter, her siblings and nephews and nieces. Cousins were apparently a step too far. But Catherine asked to meet, so Adrasteia was sitting in a tea shop in the new, burgeoning wizarding neighborhood in Manchester. She'd offered to go to Birmingham to meet Catherine, but it seemed her cousin didn't want to be overheard.

These days, one had to go to Manchester for any anonymity.

"You're late," Adrasteia teased when Catherine slipped into the booth across from her. "What's all this about?"

"Research," Catherine said softly. "On people. I know no one better at finding what doesn't want to be found."

Adrasteia narrowed her eyes.

It was true, she was excellent at routing out secrets, and people, and places. Her novels were all based on the dirty secrets the people in her world didn't want uncovered, and she always dressed them up just enough to keep them from causing chaos. But she couldn't imagine what her cousin wanted dug up.

"I need to find someone," Catherine said, "and I need to do it discretely. And you know I can't use normal channels discretely, or even most of the abnormal channels."

"Who?" Adrasteia said, narrowing her eyes.

Catherine bit her lip, looking at her teacup as the waitress came around to pour their tea. Adrasteia had ordered, knowing her cousin's tastes – unchanged in four decades since their childhood tea parties. Perhaps the only thing gone unchanged in those years.

"I know Dumbledore's still alive," Catherine whispered. "He still does work for the Wizengamot, in major cases. But he only comes in twice a year, and it's ages until I could waylay him at the Ministry. I need to find him at his home, and I need to talk to him there."

Adrasteia's eyebrows twitched. If Albus Dumbledore didn't want to be found, he could hide better than perhaps anybody on the planet. Of course, it didn't follow that simply because no one knew where he was off the tops of their heads he didn't want to be found – simply no one had made a fuss over his lifestyle. She thought he'd gone to a tiny Muggle village, if whispers could be believed, which gave her a place to start. A broad, vague, ridiculously complicated place to start, but still.

"I hate to ask," she said softly.

"What's in it for you, Adra," Catherine said softly, "is answers. I want to ask him about your father. Among other things. I imagine that's something you want to know, isn't it?" Adrasteia nodded. "And why I'm turning to him is because six years on, I still feel like something's missing, and I can't move forward with my life until I at least have an idea of what happened in my past. And it must be something with me, mustn't it? It can't be coincidence."

Adrasteia had thought the same thing at the time and never wavered in the thought, but she'd never said it out loud. Even now, she didn't dare say it out loud, because she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it might mean.

"Alright," she whispered, "I'll keep you posted on what I find. I can't give you any promises on when, if I find him."

"I understand," Catherine said earnestly. "Do what you have to do."

/-/

Meetings with the full crew were few and far between, but Blaise did try to gather his empire around him every once in a while, to check on progress for all his organizations.

"Ginny," he said sharply, nodding his wife on.

"The _Tribune_ is up in readership," she said. "A marginal amount, probably because of England's unusually good Quidditch run. Also, Ernie, Colin, and Cora are requesting an improved internship program."

"Write up a request outlining their ideas," Blaise said. "If it's good, we'll do it for the whole corporation."

She nodded, making a note. She ran the _Hogsmeade Tribune_ , which covered all written hard news and sports news for his corporation. He then turned to Luna, who had converted her father's old newspaper into an academic research journal based out of Birmingham, including articles and essays from some of the top minds of their era.

"Waiting on a few articles, one from Madam Potter," she said, "and another from Mrs. Potter. Kitty's could wait, but the other will have to go out on time if it's going to adjoin with the article Colin's running on the new legal front. Otherwise, we're on schedule."

Blaise nodded, turning to Natalie Whitby, who was running his acquisition, _The Daily Prophet,_ out of London. He'd converted it to a Business and Finance paper, and she did a wonderful job organizing this world for the average reader and the specialist alike.

"Damon and Mora want a hiring binge," Natalie said, rubbing her eyes. "I agree we're understaffed now we've opened the Philanthropy section. Katie Bell's a star, but she and Damon are basically writing the Business section between them."

"Give me the numbers and we'll get something advertised," Blaise said, nodding. "We knew this was coming. Dennis."

Dennis Creevey perked up. He was now the Editor-in-Chief at _Witch Weekly_ , which Blaise moved to Hogsmeade, as the _Tribune_ had enough land to build two offices, and Blaise's personal office was squarely between the two in a free-standing building. Dennis was surprisingly good at organizing this publication, which covered gossip, society pages, how-to's, their own Agony Aunt, and literature from top writers. The main writers, of course, were Adrasteia Lestrange and Blaise's daughter, Eveleen, but it wasn't his fault they were top of the charts.

"All is well," Dennis said, grinning. "We're well-staffed, making big money, and Miss Lewis tells me she's had an increase of interest in her section since Eveleen's latest book hit the shelves. We're expecting more subscriptions, even if it's a small uptick."

"Good, good," Blaise said, turning to Lee Jordan, who was running the WWN out of Cardiff. "Now, we're still in the hiring phase for several shows, yes?"

"Yeah," Lee said, rubbing his eyes. "Business show is currently not up and running, and I've called in one-offs for entertainment hour, but Nat and Dennis are sending people my way if they think they've got the chops, and I've been recruiting heavily at Hogwarts. Professor Lupin's been very helpful."

Blaise nodded. He wanted to expand into Ireland and onto the continent, but he could see there was work to do to solidify his current holdings. He'd have a word with Catherine Potter or Kevin Whitby soon. They were the experts in rapid expansion and buyouts. If anyone could give him advice, he knew it was them.

/-/

After they closed their respective shops for the day, Kevin met up with Catherine at the Birmingham branch to check in on the main office and do their weekly review of finances. She seemed distracted, but that was not terribly unusual these days. She'd not gone totally back to being herself since Cecilia's death and Cynthia's…return. He didn't ask and he didn't press because life had all sorts of stressors, but he did worry, as he was sure her husband worried.

"How's Kenrick?" she asked, laying out the books for each branch so they could systematically assure they were all balanced.

"It's weird, having him in Dublin," Kevin said with a grin. "But he's loving having his own shop to run. He visits every time he as a company meeting in London, but his life's in Ireland, now. How's Harry? Haven't seen him in ages."

"Oh, he's talking about getting another dog again," she said with a nervous laugh. "Not sure I'm ready. Four is still plenty, and it would feel too much like replacing them."

Something about her tone suggested she wasn't really talking about dogs, but he nodded. They were startled off their track of conversation by the tapping of an owl's beak on the window. Catherine hurried to it and greeted the owl like an old friend, which he supposed meant the letter was for her. It was a small bit of parchment, more a note than a letter, but her eyes lit up with excitement.

"That was fast," she muttered, jamming the note into the envelop, getting some water for the owl before its journey back.

"Something you were expecting?"

"Oh, I asked Adra for information on something, only I thought it would take a lot more time for her to find. Nothing important."

But those last two words were an obvious lie, and Kevin decided while he wouldn't press, he would file that away for later. Just in case.

/-/

It had been the week from hell, and it only seemed to get worse. First, all of Cormac's employees had either resigned or requested transfers to other departments. His boss, Cedric Diggory, had been rather cold about the whole thing, but Cormac hadn't been fired or shuffled out of his position as Head of the International Magical Trading Standards Body. The publicity was bad, but really, it hadn't been such a terrible joke. One of his better ones, Cormac thought.

How was he supposed to know he'd offend half the Asian market?

And now, he was standing outside his girlfriend's Regency home in Brighton, locked out and staring at his things on the kerb.

In his defense, he hadn't thought she'd known about the Muggle shop girl. How could she, when he didn't even know the name of the Muggle shop girl?

And, of course, his girlfriend was a Muggle, sister of a Muggle-born wizard he knew from work. Even though she knew about magic, it wasn't really appropriate to use it to get back into her house. Because legally, it was her house. And using magic in a Muggle neighborhood to unlock locked doors was frowned on.

And maybe it wasn't the shop girl she was upset about, he mused, kicking his trunk, trying to decide what to do. It could be one of the other three. He'd been careful, but he knew their names, so it was always possible it made them easier to find. That's what he got for learning names.

Cormac thought he could always just walk out into the sea, leave his things on her doorstep and let her decide what to do with them.

Instead, he supposed he could use the tools at his disposal. Walking out into the sea didn't sit well with him. He didn't want his body nibbled on by marine life. It seemed highly undignified.

Instead, he pulled out some belladonna root he'd been saving for a potion for weedkilling, and he chomped on the bitter root, ignoring the aftertaste. This would be suitably dramatic, he could feel it.

/-/

Jowan arrived with a regular shipment to the Birmingham branch of Potter & Whitby's, and he was surprised to see his Aunt Kitty pulling on her jacket and having a quiet word with Ms. Bobbin, one of the shift managers.

"Oh, Jowan," Aunt Kitty sighed. "Melinda will help you with that. I have other business I must see to. Give my best to your mother, will you?"

He nodded, but she saw more of his mother than he did, most of the time. Of course, Aunt Kitty being busy and balancing a lot of things wasn't so unusual, but she always stayed at the branch until lunch. It wasn't just tradition or expectation – it was what she did. Nothing at all plain or simple about it.

As she left the shop, he asked Ms. Bobbin if she knew where his aunt was going, and the woman shrugged.

"I never ask," she said, but her frown said she noticed the departure from form, as well.

/-/

Marly Prewett and Jemma Lestrange were best friends, Marly a Quidditch hero for the Hufflepuff team and Jemma a favorite (and relative) of what seemed half the staff. It was largely accepted the two girls ruled the school. Jemma's father was their Ancient Runes teacher, her aunt was Deputy, Potions Mistress, and Marly's head of house. Her sister had recently begun teaching Arithmancy, and her cousin had just taken over the post of librarian. And that was just those who shared the surname Lestrange.

"There's a rumor," Jemma whispered to her best friend, who was listening eagerly, "that my grandmother has been spending quite a lot of time with Professor Lupin."

Both girls glanced up at the High Table to get a look at their Headmaster, and Marly supposed he'd seemed even more cheerful than usual of late. When he looked at them, however, they both quickly looked at their food and pretended they'd never looked up.

/-/

Catherine walked down the High Street of Upper Churl, a remote Muggle village in Yorkshire, and she let her eyes scan street signs, trying to find her destination.

"'Scuse me, ma'am," a kindly man in his fifties said, stopping her. "Only y'look lost."

She smiled sheepishly and said, "Oh, yes, I am, a bit. I'm…visiting my great-uncle, you see, and I've never been before. Do you happen to know Heather Cottage?"

His eyebrows shot up with delight and he said, "Old Dumbledore's your great-uncle? Bloody hell, I'd never have guessed. Say, how old is he really, then?"

"Oh, about a hundred fifteen," she lied, smiling nervously.

"Ha, I win the bet. The bowling league has a bet on, you see. Sorry, you were looking for Heather Cottage. This next lane up here? Up it, and straight at the end of the road. It'll turn to dirt and the sidewalks, but it's right centered at the end. Can't miss it."

She thanked him and took a deep breath, following the lane as directed until she saw a vine-covered cottage at the end, with the name of the cottage stamped over the door. She knocked, and a dry voice behind it told her the door was unlocked.

Catherine let herself in, and when the fragile-looking old man of about one hundred fifty looked up at her with brilliant blue eyes, she realized he wasn't at all surprised to see her.

"Looking well, Mrs. Potter," he said calmly.

She hummed and said, "As far as the village is concerned, you're now my great-uncle and about one hundred fifty."

His lips twitched as he gestured for her to sit and he said, "I'm both honored and flattered, my dear. You think you're here to ask me about your true uncle and his disappearance, perhaps some other things."

"I think?" she repeated, puzzled.

"The story of your difficulties, Catherine, is generations old and is riddled with mistakes not yours. If you are going to move forward fresh, in control, you must know the full truth, the whole story. It may take time."

"I'll come every day if I have to," she said earnestly, intrigued. "Start wherever, whenever you have to."

/-/

When Catherine arrived home early, Harry was confused, but she kissed him with a fervor she hadn't used in years, so he didn't argue or even ask.

"I might be home late or early sometimes," she said lazily. "For a while. There's no need to be worried. It's just something I'm working on. What's for dinner?"

In his habit of answering the last question first, he told her dinner's menu, and before he could address her comment of sometimes being late or early, she dragged him off onto topics about the dogs with a string of questions in that direction, and Harry willingly and obediently followed.

There wasn't something wrong with her, per se. In fact, she was more herself than she'd been for some time. But Harry was certainly curious as they ate, when she went upstairs to shower before bed, and he thought about asking one of her coworkers, or perhaps Kevin, what on earth was happening at that apothecary.

But he didn't. Instead, he went upstairs, passing Shadow on his way into their bedroom – Shadow had taken to lingering at the door of whatever room Catherine was in for the past six years, diligently since Penny died – and following the sound of Catherine's shower into their bathroom. He was only going to brush his teeth.

By habit, of course. When Catherine showered, when the room filled with steam, it fogged his glasses, so he couldn't see what he was doing for brushing his teeth. It was alright; he could do it all by memory.

But he didn't see her coming. He heard a slight change in the water's pattern, but he didn't think she'd opened the door. So, when she wrapped her arms around his neck before he could put toothpaste on his brush, when she pulled him into a wet, warm kiss….

Harry could not see her, and he dropped his toothbrush and the toothpaste tube with being startled. Her wet hands undid the buttons of his shirt without her stopping to ask, and he dutifully pulled off the shirt, moaning into his wife's mouth. Before he'd finished stripping down, she returned to the shower, leaving the shower door slightly open, from the sound of the water. He trembled, hastily removing the rest of his clothes, almost tripping over the clothes and himself to get to her, to touch her under the warm jets of water. He closed the shower door and was pressed against the wall by Catherine, who kissed him again with vigor.

They made love, they dried off, they went to bed skin on skin, but Harry lay awake, listening to the sound of her breathing.

"Not my fault," she muttered into the night, although still fast asleep. "Not my fault."

He wondered what wasn't her fault, and whether it was the thing that made her flinch when he touched her. He wondered if in the morning she would be the vixen who lured him into the shower, or the woman who shied from his touch. He would love her either way, but he secretly wished whatever stood between them would just disappear so they could simply love each other again. Like when they were children, in a hotel in Brighton, and nothing stood between them.

 **A/N: So, Catherine has connected with Albus Dumbledore in her search for answers, the face of business and information in the wizarding world is laid bare for your reading pleasure, and Cormac has made a rather dramatic gesture…. Don't worry, he pops back up later. I wouldn't just randomly kill a character like that.** **Even I'm not that strange.**

 **Review Prompt: Will Catherine's meetings with Dumbledore be a positive or a negative catalyst?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Catherine speak to Severus or someone else about her problems, or continue dealing with it alone? (Michand)**

 **A: Obviously, she's turned to Dumbledore, and if you're wondering why, she'll say later. But he's not the last stop on her journey to sorting out her problems. For several reasons. She'll turn to her mother, and to Lily and Severus.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	3. At the Beginning

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! Enjoy!**

 **-C**

The morning was grey and cold, and Scorpius poured himself a cup of tea as he watched Severus Snape – still so strange not to think of him as Professor Snape – take a tray of food toward Grandmother's room. Scorpius sighed, wishing it hadn't taken his grandmother dying to drive them closer together.

He thought of his own love life with a mild self-derision. He'd been quite convinced, not terribly long ago, he'd manage to successfully court and marry Cynthia Potter, and it wasn't until his parents gently encouraged him to redirect his attentions he realized she was more attracted to women than men.

He didn't mind. She seemed happy. But Scorpius couldn't help feeling a bit foolish for not seeing it before.

"Father," he said, setting down the kettle as his father grunted, not looking up from his paper. "I think I'll go by Hogsmeade after work today, for a while. I don't know how long I'll be. I may not be back for dinner."

"That's perfectly alright," his father said, clearly exhausted. He had a right to show his exhaustion at home, as he had to be perfectly healthy and fresh in the public eye – a drawback of being the Minister of Magic. None of the chinks in the armor could show. "I doubt we're doing a formal dinner, anyway. I have a host of meetings, couldn't begin to say when I'll be done for the day, and then I have to check in on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and all its many hydra heads."

"It only has one head," Scorpius said, puzzled. "Fabian Prewett."

"Yes, and no," his father said with a sigh. "Fabian and I make the final decisions, but it's by far the largest, most varied department. I meet with Fabian weekly, and I must meet with the hydras monthly. Fabian, of course. Head of the Auror Department."

"Gideon," Scorpius said with a wink. It didn't sound bad so far.

"Yes. Head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects."

"Arthur Weasley," Scorpius said, narrowing his eyes, still not seeing the problem.

"Improper Use of Magic Office."

"Erm, Jorkins. Is that Albert or Granville?"

"Albert, thank Merlin. When relevant the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot shows, but Dumbledore hasn't been needed for several months. Good for him, good for everybody. It means life is relatively good and he can enjoy more ten-pin bowling."

"I still don't see the problem," Scorpius said, shrugging. "They're all perfectly reasonable people.

"Oh, yes, I agree," his father said, rubbing his nose. "But every other month, we add in the sub-department heads. So, Hit-Wizards. Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. All that sort of thing. I tell you, I'm glad I'm only obliged to go to their department's Christmas part once every ten years."

Scorpius was torn between fighting his laughter and attempting to put on a sympathetic face for his unfortunate father. He decided it was safer to hide behind his teacup than fail to look sympathetic, so he took rapid, small sips of tea to keep the cup at his face.

/-/

Cara relished this first year with all their grandchildren away at Hogwarts – not because she didn't love caring for her grandchildren, but because it gave her more time alone with her husband, in their own home. She watched Sirius stretch as he checked the time, deciding whether to get up or stay in bed, she assumed.

Cara sat up slightly, tracing he fingers up his bare spine. He was no longer the young man she'd fallen in love with, that she'd married and raised three children with, but he'd taken good care of himself and he was still beautiful.

Sirius stiffened for a moment, then relaxed at her touch, a sigh escaping his lips as she leaned forward to press a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades.

This seemed to make up his mind, and Sirius turned back to smile at her, curling up against her body and pressing his lips to her lips.

"I love you," he said, into the kiss, before his teeth teased her lips slightly apart so he could deepen the kiss.

Cara closed her eyes, once again infinitely thankful that she'd had the bizarre, miraculous life she'd had with him. She pressed her lips more pointedly against his and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

She knew he'd been about to suggest they see Catherine and Harry, or drop in on Lily, or go by Jason and Laura's. All reasonable things to ask, but Cara didn't want that today. She pulled back slightly from the kiss, enjoying his soft moan of protest at this step back.

"Let's stay in bed today," she whispered.

"What, all day?" he asked, grinning as he tried to kiss her again.

"Until we have to summon food from the kitchen because we can't function anymore, and then we can eat and continue to stay in bed," she said, teasing her fingers down his neck.

Sirius groaned his approval of this plan, rolling her over and pressing eager kisses all down her body.

/-/

Albus was waiting when Catherine arrived, setting down her bag from work rubbing her eyes.

"I have one question for you," he said as she sat down, thanking him softly for the tea he'd laid out. "Have Severus and Narcissa finally stopped being foolish and wasting their lives?"

She smiled, and Albus was struck with how uncommonly beautiful she was – like her mother, like her grandmother. The poor men who had fallen in love with them never had a chance.

"Well, they're getting closer," she said with a soft shrug. "I just don't know if they'll have time, you know? Aunt Lily's doing everything, and Severus has given every waking moment to finding a cure, but they're not there yet."

"Quite," he said, nodding slowly. "Now, I said we had to start at the beginning. The beginning is…oh, around a hundred years ago. I was quite a young man."

"Older than I am," she teased.

He smiled, nodding mildly. Not young in the eyes of the world, but compared to where he was now, quite young.

"Hector Fawley. Does the name sound familiar to you?"

"Of course," she said, setting down her tea after a long sip. "Daddy always told us he was disgraced because he didn't stand up against Grindelwald. Minister of Magic. A pretty big mistake, if you ask me."

Albus smiled softly at her naivety, but he didn't wish to debunk her view of Hector. It had been a foolish mistake, and cost not only his career, but the standing that might have given his daughter some little bit of happiness in her marriage options.

But he would start with Hector's marriage, his wife, the birth of his daughter – at least, for today. She needed to know everything, and not just the salacious details.

/-/

Cedric was grabbing a few bits and bobs on his way home for the night. Just a few small things like more parchment, a top-up on Floo powder, and eggs before going back to his humble, comfortable London flat.

He was so distracted from his long day that he nearly walked right into someone and he paused, apologizing profusely for not looking where he was going.

"Oh," he said, blinking as he tried to remember the woman's name. Catherine Potter's cousin, a Lestrange. But what was her first name? "Miss Lestrange. I truly am sorry."

"It's nothing," she said, brushing at her robes absently. "I'm sure you're a very busy man, Mr. Diggory."

"Nothing urgent about grocery shopping," he said lightly. He remembered her vaguely from school. He recalled she was sophisticated, reasonably intelligent. He knew her books were successful, although not in line with his personal taste in reading. But somehow, he didn't recall her being so beautiful when they were young. Perhaps she had grown into her looks, or perhaps he'd been too dazzled by the beauty of her cousin to notice.

"Well, no harm done," she said.

"Allow me to make it up to you," he said suddenly, not sure why he'd said it. She blinked at him, pausing. She'd been about to continue on her way. "Allow me to buy you lunch. Saturday?"

She blinked, seeming to think over her commitments before nodding slowly and saying that would be fine. They arranged to meet, and instead of going to the Apparation point and going home, he stopped at Flourish and Blotts and dipped into the fiction section, searching frantically for the L's. He licked his lips, finding Lestrange on the spine of a rather salacious-looking romance novel, in a long line of them. He pulled out one, and he felt his cheeks go hot as he saw the rather erotic cover. He slammed it back on the shelf and pulled out the next book, but it was the same problem. The more books down the line, the longer he lingered, looking at them, and he began to wonder who had modeled for them, as no faces were shown. He licked his lips, lingering on the last cover, where a man in profile was kissing down a woman's very naked torso, and then back up again. He swallowed as his eyes finally found what he'd been looking for on the covers in the first place: the author's full name.

Adrasteia Lestrange, he read. Even her name seemed exotic, mysterious, erotic. He chided himself for it, but he pulled out each book again, examining the covers more closely, before he realized he was being stupid and quickly pushed the first book – a woman dropping a dressing gown to reveal the back of her naked torso before stepping into shower with a man's blurred, wet figure – and hurried out of the shop, to the Apparation point, unable to stop thinking about the covers, the shape of Adrasteia Lestrange's eyes, the way her voice seemed to melt the air between them when she'd said the few words she had said.

He felt seventeen again, in well over his head for a woman too beautiful to be real. Even as then, he was accomplished and stood every chance of impressing, but he wasn't a pureblood. He wasn't wealthy. He didn't even have his youthful good-looks to his favor now, and she was achingly beautiful.

Cedric felt a fool, but that didn't mean he could behave any other way.

/-/

Severus watched Narcissa sitting on her balcony, pretending she was well just because she wasn't in bed. She raised her eyebrows and he came closer, half-wishing he could caress her neck and bury his face in her hair, that he could just say all the things he felt. But even if he had the courage, it wasn't alright, seeing her like this.

He kissed her hand and asked if she wanted to rest, or try for a walk. Narcissa smiled mildly and said, "Severus, I don't want to rest. But I know I can't walk."

His chest constricted as he saw this ultimately proud woman admitting her weaknesses to him. It was somehow a pleasant moment to know he was important enough to hear her admission, but it was devastatingly desperate to know she was weak enough to reach this point.

All the positivity was brushed out by the knowledge he was losing her, and there was nothing left he could do about it.

"I want you to tell my great-grandchildren," she whispered, "what sort of person I was. I suppose you know better than anyone else."

"You'll tell them," he said pointedly. "You'll tell them everything, a million times better than I ever could."

"Don't lie, Severus," she said, sighing. "I know I'm going to die." He shook his head, leaning closer, but she shushed him like a comforting mother, and she took his face in her hands.

Not the hands he spent so many years kissing, the closest he could get to her. They belonged to someone old beyond her years. The tears leaked before he could stop them and her thumbs gently brushed at the tears, and she kissed his forehead.

"For what it's worth," she whispered, "and I know it can't be worth much…. I love you, Severus."

He could feel his body trembling, but he didn't know what to say. This was worth everything. He dropped his head to her lap, clinging to her legs, trying to stop his tears as she smoothed her weak fingers through his hair.

"You're not going to die," he said, needing the words more than he believed them. "You're not going to die."

And Narcissa said nothing.

/-/

Lily dropped by to see her son before going home for the day, and was surprised to find Catherine hadn't come back yet.

"She's been working late on some project," Harry said, completely unconcerned.

In fact, Lily noticed, he seemed more pleasant, brighter, more hopeful than he had for some time, now.

"How are things, then?" she asked, a tiny voice in the back of her telling her to tread lightly, just in case.

He grinned and said, "I think things are finally starting to heal, Mum. I think Cat's finally moving on from…everything. It's slow, but there's been little signs. She seems happier."

Lily wanted to ask her son whether he was sure his wife was truly working late on a project, whether she'd been picking up any strange behaviors, but Harry's happiness really did seem genuine, not induced by some sort of potion or pill. And for now, she'd be optimistic about it.

"Ah, how's the cure search coming, by the way?" he asked, pouring her a cup of tea. "All's well?"

"Oh, sure," she said, sarcastically. "We're still nowhere near finding what we need to save Narcissa, even if we do manage to save Astoria. We inch closer, but what we need, honestly, is a bloody miracle."

He smiled sadly and nodded, and she was glad he didn't try to say anything to console or encourage her. She'd reached a point in the project where all such efforts were in vain. Instead, she scratched under Shadow's chin when he came over to inspect her presence, sniffing at the ankles of her boots as she stirred her tea.

"Dad's enjoying being Head of Gryffindor, still?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, don't even mention it around him," she said with a snicker. "He's on a power trip. Marauders running the school, he says. He's tried to find a way to spin it so that Aeson and Rose are Marauders, too, but Remus isn't impressed."

"I'm sure not," he said, smiling wryly. "You can stay longer, if you'd like, you know. I can't say for sure when Kitty's going to be home, but Cyn and Colly are out for the night, so you could stay until Kitty comes home or not."

"No, no," she said with a sigh. "I'll finish my tea and go. You know how it is. Plenty of work to get done."

Always work to get done.

/-/

Draco poured a cup of tea for himself and his son and he let the heaviness in the air between them settle. They had yet to talk about what they would do when Draco's mother passed, or when Astoria passed. There were things that would need to be considered, options to be discussed, practicalities to be managed. Draco knew he would rely, in part, on his son to deal with these things. Especially if the cure was too late for them both, he did not know if he would be able to manage them alone.

"There is some paperwork that will cross your desk next week," Scorpius said softly, stirring his tea, although it was black and unsweetened. "I trust it will be signed without consideration."

"I consider all things, Scorpius. Even from your department. Even from you."

His son's neck stiffened, but Scorpius was intelligent enough to recognize when he had overstepped. The two men did not sit, simply standing on opposite ends of the study. Draco knew the paperwork was something he would approve, as much as Scorpius's work discomforted his father. Draco would not be a very good Minister if he did not understand the value of things that made a sane man uncomfortable.

"I have…difficulty…"

"Yes," he said, not looking at his son. "As do I."

Severus passed the door of the study, not looking at them, but Draco knew he was aware of their presence. Draco often wondered how life might have been different for Scorpius, for everyone, had Severus and Draco's mother simply confronted their emotions years ago and ignored the proprieties of pureblood custom. After all, much of it was being torn down, brick by brick. Draco did much of it, Remus Lupin was effective in changing public opinions at the school, Lily Potter was a stalwart in adjusting public health initiatives. But perhaps the most important piece of all was Blaise, his media empire, constantly tweaking the expectations of others regarding public matters and society affairs. Useful, certainly, and slow going, but Draco could envision a world not too far into the future where all things came into the light and nothing was hidden under rugs.

Perhaps a mad fancy, but Draco did like to believe in something. He'd spent much of his youth feeling encouraged by his mother and suffocated by his father, and now he was his own man, he wanted to make certain others had a chance to choose their paths for themselves, and the understanding to do so.

"Father," Scorpius said softly, "I wonder…is Aunt Kitty quite well?"

Draco closed his eyes. He'd spent much of his life asking himself that question, wondering about his cousin. He liked to believe whatever had been plaguing her since Cecilia's death was fixable, that she and Harry would come through it. Now, he simply shook his head and hoped, because he'd long ago realized Catherine's wellness was out of his hands.

 **A/N: So, Catherine learns about her grandmother's family, Narcissa confesses, Cedric is infatuated, and people worry about Kitty.**

 **Review Prompt: Cedric/Adra…. Thoughts?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: How come Dumbledore wasn't surprised to see Catherine? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Well, I could just say Dumbledore knows everything and leave it at that. But I won't. Dumbledore has watched the spiral of consequences build and build and build, starting with Rohesia Fawley's marriage prospect, building through Cara's victimization, Catherine's troubled youth, Cynthia's jaunt, and now Catherine struggling with a trauma she doesn't remember. All of these pieces are in some way dependent on each other, and Dumbledore has watched this for decades. It was only a matter of time before someone went looking for the root. She will say more later, but she doesn't feel she can go to Severus or her parents for various reasons that are obvious to anyone who has seen. And Albus wasn't certain she'd come to him, but he certainly wasn't surprised to see her.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia feel guilty, because if she didn't run away this wouldn't have happened? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Cynthia definitely feels guilty, and that's part of why she and Colly are moving out, getting their own place. She feels her presence is a constant reminder of her behavior, and that it's keeping putting a wall between her parents. She doesn't know what the wall really is, and she couldn't possibly, because even Catherine doesn't know what the wall is.**

 **Q: Who is headmaster now? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Remus Lupin! And Rose Lestrange is Deputy Headmistress.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	4. Sins of the Fathers

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! We're getting involved in some of the spoilers for Part 0 here, thanks to Dumbledore, so keep that in mind!**

 **-C**

Catherine was still thinking of Harry's kisses when she arrived at Dumbledore's house again, letting herself in without a fuss, making tea for herself and her former headmaster. He had talked her through the early lives of her ancestors, Rohesia Fawley and Alphard Black. They had clearly been close as children, and while Catherine wasn't certain where the story was going, she was curious to find out.

"Now," he said, as though she'd been gone two minutes and not a day. "I first noticed attraction between Rohesia and Alphard when he was, oh, thirteen years old."

"Wait," she said, laughing. "Are you saying my father's uncle and my mother's mother had a childhood romance?"

His brilliant blue eyes darkened and he looked down at the steam rising off his tea.

"My dear, if that were all, the story would be much more hopeful. You are versed, I think, in the contract system."

His lips were curled and she snorted. Her own foray into the contract system was something of modern myth at this point. She knew in the era he was telling her about, contracts weren't simply common, they were the only way a young lady of certain standing was to find a husband. Rohesia Fawley had certainly been such a lady.

"Contracts started pouring in for her," he said, frowning. "The more wishful thinking and the more practical. Early ones came in as soon as her fourteenth birthday, although Hector made it clear no decision would be made until Rohesia was of age and old enough to choose for herself. No one dared press the matter because no one wanted to lose."

"How many contracts?" Catherine asked, a shiver running up her spine. Two possible contracts had been quite enough for her.

"Oh, dozens. Everyone submitted one. The Lestranges, the Selwyns, Greengrass, Parkinson, Nott, even Malfoy. The Blacks were a bit of an odd exception, and that's what started the whole mess rolling." Catherine perked up, puzzled. "Oh, there were three eligible males."

"Yes," she said, thinking back to the history books. "My grandfather, Orion. And…Draco's grandfather, Cygnus. And Alphard, yes?"

"Quite. Now, if you were Arcturus or Pollux, sitting down and considering the future of the Black Family, what would you do for that contract situation?"

Catherine puzzled over the options. Cygnus, the younger brother of the lesser branch, wouldn't be worth putting forward unless they wanted to flood the pool with options. That didn't seem likely. Orion was the heir of the family, the only son in the primary line. An obvious option. And with Rohesia's closeness to Alphard, it seemed prudent to throw him in, so even if she didn't choose Orion, their chances of gaining the most illustrious acquisition for their own family went up.

"I suppose I'd put forward Orion and Alphard as suitors," she said slowly. "And expect her to choose one or the other, head or heart. The Blacks would have outdone almost anyone, wouldn't they?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said softly. "The Lestranges, Selwyns, Malfoys were all close at the time, but not quite on the same level. Cygnus had long been enamored with Druella Rosier, and wouldn't have carried the pull. But for reasons largely unknown, Alphard's name never went forward."

"What?" Catherine gasped. "But the attraction! You said it was clear years before contracts started coming in. What a waste!"

"Oh, it wasn't down to Pollux, or even Arcturus," Dumbledore said. "Alphard asked not to muddy the waters. Imagine if Harry had an elder brother, one who would inherit everything. Could you see him suggesting you marry his brother, to give you opportunities he couldn't?"

The thought was sickening to Catherine, but she tried to turn off her modern sensibilities, and she could see the point. Guarantee she had an option worthy of her station, even if Alphard couldn't be with her. Selfless, if misguided.

"But it backfired," she said, leaning forward. "Rohesia picked the Selwyn heir over the Black heir."

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Not entirely correct. I believe Alphard's plan would have succeeded, if not for outside influence. Orion was a charming man, and he was utterly besotted with Rohesia. It is very hard to see past someone offering everything, you know. But the choice was taken out of his hands. Her…politics were quite progressive, and if there's one thing you've learned about your Black ancestors…"

Catherine nodded. No one could have called the Black family progressive, prior to her father becoming the family head. Somehow, Rohesia Fawley's politics were decided to be dangerous.

"Orion was swiftly betrothed to Walburga," Dumbledore said, closing his eyes as though seeing the events in sequence. "I do not believe he felt he could defy the marriage. Family honor. But neither Rohesia nor Orion took the matter well. Head Boy and Girl, you know, and they didn't speak twelve words to each other the rest of the year."

"And the family didn't let Alphard marry her, either?" Catherine asked, feeling her eyes sting at the corners.

"I do not know," Dumbledore said with a small frown. "Possibly, although he would have been much quicker to defy them for love than his cousin. Your father takes after him very much. I believe it was more to do with respect to Orion for the painful undercut, and respect to Rohesia's potential in society. If he walked away, he could give her nothing, and he would pain his favorite cousin in the process. I think, for a time, the sacrifice seemed the best way."

/-/

Scorpius came home at lunch to find his mother shaking in the library, trying to reach a book. He stopped her before she collapsed, helping her to a nearby sofa, retrieving the book for her and sitting beside her.

"Have you taken your potion yet?" he asked, checking her pulse as she tried to brush him off.

"I'm fine," she said stubbornly.

He blinked his stinging eyes and said, "Severus tells me you are supposed to take the restoratives three times a day during this stage."

She clearly wanted to argue from the pinched set of her mouth and the flaring of her nostrils, but she did not. Scorpius carefully Summoned her potions, letting her measure them herself, but watchful as she worked. He didn't want her trembling to cause an error, or her stubbornness. Perhaps she knew she needed them, perhaps she simply wanted to avoid further argument, or perhaps she did not want to worry him. She took them all appropriately and relaxed back into the sofa, closing her eyes to let the restoratives kick in. The concentration she'd been prescribed took only a few minutes.

"Shall I bring you lunch here," he said, smoothing her graying hair off her face, "or will you join me in the dining room?"

"Join me here," she said with eyes still closed, her voice smaller than it had been when she argued. "Tell me anything."

He kissed her hand. He couldn't tell her about work, but he could update her on Eveleen's work, on office politics unrelated to work. He would tell her all of it as though it mattered, and she would listen, soaking in every minor detail as though each were a precious jewel.

/-/

Sirius met his son for lunch near the clinic, feeling a stab of guilt at how frazzled Jason looked. No matter how many times Sirius was assured the natal bonds were not the cause of the majority of Jason's stress and tiredness lately, it didn't leave Sirius feeling any less responsible.

"Laura sends her love," Jason said, grinning as he shook his father's hand. A strong grip, Sirius thought proudly.

"Give her mine right back," Sirius said. He gestured for Jason to tuck in, having ordered already. He knew what Jason liked, as they did this twice a month, always the same. "I had a thought for Easter."

"Easter?"

"Well, I know we never do anything on Easter, usually, but it does fall on your mother's birthday again this year. I thought maybe one of you kids would want to host a big do, you know. Just family."

"That's a pretty big do on its own," Jason said, grinning. "Yeah, I'll talk to Laura. Have you mentioned it to Kitty and Caro?"

Sirius shook his head. In truth, it had only just occurred to him as he tried to think of things to say that didn't have to do with his son's natal bonds. No matter what, Sirius felt he would never be done apologizing for what he'd done to his child. And as successful and brilliant and seemingly happy as they all were, Sirius never ceased to feel he'd failed each of his children. Never was that sensation closer, stronger than when he was lunching with Jason.

"I'll mention it to them," Jason said, shrugging. "It's crazy, now none of us needs a babysitter during the school year, we see a lot more of each other."

Sirius grinned as Jason told him about their frequent drinks gatherings, spouses included, and he thought he'd ask Harry or Damon how Jason was really doing. He could trust his sons-in-law to be open about the matter. Because Sirius couldn't believe Jason was really fine.

/-/

Albus explained to Catherine how the contract phase dragged on and on, Rohesia seemingly incapable of making a choice, all the young men waiting patiently for her decision.

"Very few marriages in that period," he said wryly, recalling the frustration of many young women. He wished he could have made Rohesia and Alphard see sense, for so many reasons. Not least of these reasons was seeing how many lives they did not notice were altered or even ruined in their self-focused mess. "The whole of pureblood society seemed to hold its breath, apart from the Blacks."

"The wedding?" Catherine said anxiously.

He nodded, and recalling the tension in the air when Walburga and Orion wed. He sipped his tea and thought of Cygnus and Druella in their marital bliss, and Alphard purchasing his own house, a way to get away from the expectations of his world, a private escape. When that purchase happened, Albus had been hopeful, but he had not foreseen the complications the pair set for themselves.

"You are acquainted, I believe, with your father's cousin Andromeda," he said softly, "and her husband?"

"Loosely," Catherine said, shrugging. "They were so out of our social realm when I was a child, I think it was between them and the Lestranges, and we sided for the Lestranges. I don't really know why."

Albus hummed, pained at the thought Sirius could have spared his daughter so much suffering with one simple choice. The reasons why didn't matter, only that it happened. Perhaps if Nymphadora had been younger, or if Cara had felt too uncomfortable around her half-brother to cultivate a relationship. But those options were over.

"Another cup of tea?" he said with a smile.

"Of course," Catherine said eagerly, grinning. "I could do up some sandwiches as well."

"That would be lovely," he said, watching her gather up the tray and retreat briefly into the kitchen. As an adult, he could see her mother in her, more than he would have imagined while she was a child. Always beautiful, always her own brand of serene, but she had been too bold, too audacious to be more her mother's child than her father's. Perhaps, he mused, it had taken the lifetime of loss and suffering to reconnect her to her mother's side of things.

He laid back on the pillow, wondering how much time it would take to tell her everything, all the details she needed. He only hoped it would be enough.

/-/

On Scorpius's request, Severus paid a visit to Astoria late in the afternoon, while Narcissa was sleeping. He did a few quick Charms to ascertain her general well-being before knocking on the door.

"I know you're there, Severus," Astoria said wearily. She sat up, and he was chilled with the similarities to Narcissa's frailty. "Come in and do your checks."

He nodded, sitting down beside her bed, doing a series of checks of pulse, pupil dilation, hair quality, and several blood samples. She was patient, but she'd been through all this plenty of times.

"My son is paranoid," she whispered.

"Your son loves you," he said back, "and does not wish to lose his mother."

Astoria stared at a spot over Severus's shoulder in the dim light of the bedroom and she whispered, "If I die, Severus, don't let Draco shut down."

"You will not die," he said firmly. It was easier to say this to Astoria, because he believed it more readily than he believed what he told Narcissa. "There are ideas Lily and I are considering implementing."

"Not in time, I expect," she said, rubbing her eyes.

She was not talking about herself, he knew, so he said nothing. He knew, as well, that there would be almost no chance of finding a cure in time to save Narcissa.

"I know you've done everything you can," she continued, still not looking at him. "I know you continue to do everything you can. I know we're all grateful. But…it isn't enough, you see? It's not the same as simply getting better. Existing is not the same as living. I haven't been to a society function in years. My son and my husband are nursemaiding me. I'm not living."

"You are," he assured her, aware of the emptiness in his words. "And soon, we will find out how to make your life your own again. I will do everything possible."

She hummed, rolling over and turning away from him. He thought of adjusting her medication, but he knew it wouldn't give her heart, and it wouldn't do any good until he'd finished examining her results.

He told her to sleep well, took his leave, and returned to Narcissa's bedside. He smoothed strands of pale hair from her forehead, letting his fingers linger on her skin. She was cool, not cold, and he tucked the blanket higher up her body.

If he could have found a solution, he was certain he would have by now. Between him and Lily, they had collected the best minds in the wizarding world for the project. There was only one thing, one person he hadn't turned to, because he hadn't wanted to concern her with his troubles. Now, he weighed the option.

He was tempted to ask Catherine for help. He wasn't sure if it was his protectiveness or his pride that stopped him, but he wanted to keep her separate from it. She had suffered quite enough, and he didn't feel it would benefit her to have more weight on her shoulders, not when Lily was so concerned about how Catherine and Harry were doing in their marriage. He wondered, as he did almost every day, whether he'd done the right thing, removing her memories, leaving a gap that could not be filled.

/-/

Lily met Luna for a cup of tea and discussion. They reviewed Lily's article edits for the next publication, discussed possible articles for a future edition, and exchanged light gossip about the organization as a whole.

"I think Blaise is looking to move into the continent," Luna said wistfully, smiling. "He's had discussions with Kitty about her endeavors in France. I believe he's jealous of her expansion. Have you seen her, lately?"

"Yes, in passing," Lily said, frowning. She knew Harry felt things were improving, and that made Lily relax, but she knew he'd felt this before and then something would happen to put them back to where they were. It wasn't really Catherine's fault, Lily was certain, but it didn't stop her worrying about them.

"She has lost much of her brightness," Luna said, frowning. "Every time we see each other, I think she is less than she was. I'm sure Harry sees the same."

"Oh, yes," Lily said with a sad smile. "But you know Harry. Always sure he can find the positive, the horizon in the storm. I wish I had half his optimism. He gets it from his father."

"From you as well. You wouldn't be able to accomplish the impossible without a healthy dose of optimism. Perhaps Harry has more than his share because he has so much on both sides."

Lily hummed, frowning into her tea. What did Catherine have on both sides? Breeding, beauty, intelligence… But also a level of fragility and guilt. Could one inherit guilt?

She had believed, as a child, there was a way to break out of the history one had been born into. She even believed it during the war, until Cara fell onto their doorstep. Starting with Sirius's highly reluctantly return to society and unfolding from there, Lily had become increasingly of the opinion that one could never truly escape one's roots. Catherine's whole life seemed to be proof of it, as though they were on some horrific cycle that could not be broken.

"I think," Luna said softly, "it might be a positive thing for her to leave of her daily routine for a while, perhaps go away on a holiday. Kevin could cover, certainly."

Lily hummed. She thought of this, and even presented it to Harry, but he had been hesitant to pick up on the suggestion. Marseille once again had acquired more baggage from their history, and the continent might be sour after Cynthia's troubles. It wasn't simple to just pick up and go somewhere totally unfamiliar for a while, especially when it came to crossing oceans.

"We'll see," Lily said, wishing it was as simple to diagnose and treat what was ailing Catherine the way she could diagnose and treat the cases that came through her clinics. But it wasn't her place, and she knew Catherine was physically well. "I'll have a draft to you in three weeks, if that's agreeable?"

"Oh, quite," Luna said with a dreamy smile. "If you need longer, let me know."

 **A/N: So, Astoria's condition worsens, Albus explains why Rohesia did not become a Black, and Lily frets about Harry and Catherine (story of her life, at this point).**

 **Review Prompt: Will Severus ask Catherine for help with the virus?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Didn't Snape get rid of the memories? How will [Catherine] be able to access them? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: You're right, he got rid of them entirely. She cannot access them, but she doesn't know that. That's part of the problem: there's not even a block there, just a vague feeling of guilt that lingers despite the memories being gone. Severus only removed memories that would be hints to what happened, which was a lot of memories, but not all the memories from that time period. The guilt remained in the memories around that time, although now it's unfocused.**

 **Q: What is Scorpius trying to do without Draco checking? Is it good or bad? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Well, the key thing is it's not important. He wants the sub-departments in the Department of Mysteries to do more work together instead of their own separate sections, so he's spearheading some cross-department projects. It's not really good or bad, and the details don't matter to the plot. It's just a point of contention between Scorpius and Draco that they have a difference of opinion about how the DoM should function within the Ministry.**

 **Q: How old is Dumbledore now? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: I've done the sums on all the characters and have a chart. Dumbledore's 150. Even by wizarding standards, he's getting on a bit.**

 **Cheers,**

 **C**


	5. White Lies

**A/N: Sorry this regular weekly update is a bit delayed! This week's been chaos, what with school and my niece being here. Hoping for more promptness next weekend!**

 **-C**

Draco sat with Lily Potter in his private study, at home. Although nothing they said was truly dangerous or secretive, they always locked and warded the door. At first, it seemed sensible. Necessary, even. With his wife and mother in the house, possibly able to overhear, it gave them more freedom to speak.

Now, he had no belief his wife or mother would want or be able to stand outside and listen in, but they locked and warded, regardless. Habit.

"Anything to drink?" he said, watching her sit. Still a graceful, beautiful woman, as he recalled her from childhood. His mother, on the other hand…. "Tea? Whisky? Brandy?"

"Tea is fine, thank you."

Draco prepared tea for them both, putting a tot of whisky in his and sugar in hers. Some days, after he prepared drinks, they would talk about family and pleasantries, her other endeavors and his other requirements on his time. They both had so much going on, this could take half an hour of their allotted time without either of them noticing.

Today, however, Draco wanted to get right down to business, and Madam Potter's posture said she was thinking much the same.

"We've made some small progress in treatment to prolong the false remission," she said, laying out the studies they had both already read.

It was good work, Draco knew. Solid work, well-prepared and well-considered. If he had no urgency on his hands, he would have been proud simply for such studies to be produced from a division he and Lily Potter had carved into the face of the Ministry without any support or ceremony from the Ministry at large. What a thing to show the wizarding world! What a triumph for British wizardry!

But there was urgency, and such studies were not enough, not for Draco. The studies were only worth the time and money if he could see the results in the lifespan or life quality of his wife and mother.

"Promising," he said softly. "To a point, of course."

Dragging a few more years out, particularly from a lesser period of pain, was something. But it was not a cure.

"Well, perhaps to less of a point than you realize," Madam Potter said, wincing. "The trouble is, Draco, we've determined it does not prolong the lifespan, but merely the length of the false remission."

"So…the time after the remission is…"

"Shorter. Yes. By about five years."

He felt his stomach churn and took a sip of tea. Five years off the life after, but only an extra year or two of false remission?

"It is conceivable," Lily whispered, "if we follow this line of research to its conclusion, we might earn all five of those years back in the false remission period."

"At risk to how many years overall?" he asked darkly, pouring another tot of whisky into his tea. "No chance of full recovery from this line. Comfort, but at risk to prolongation of life. I think, Madam Potter, you know precisely what I am about to say."

She nodded, slipping the study into her satchel once more. That particular line of research was considered closed, at least while his wife and mother were still around. If someone wanted to pick it up again when the urgency was gone, he would reconsider funding. He wouldn't get anyone's hopes up, not for that particular line, but he was saying the same thing for all research avenues he closed: he would reconsider each at a later date on its own merits and value and potential.

It just did not have what he needed for the moment. Not enough for his needs.

"Severus has been able to concentrate the doses," he said softly. "It saves money on ingredients. Has he given you his formula?"

"Yes, I've passed it along to Kitty," Madam Potter said, frowning at her tea. "She's put her teams to work right away at producing the new formula. Saves the hospitals and clinics a fortune, in the long term. But I'm afraid it doesn't improve the potency. Just doesn't damage it, either. You understand."

Draco did understand. This small step of progress was more a step to the side than forward. Convenient, perhaps, but not really progress. Movement, but not progress. He wished he could make all moves progress, but if movement was all he had, he might take it, provided it wasn't movement backwards.

"You've seen my mother recently," he whispered, rubbing his thumb along the gilded rim of his bone china teacup. "What is your professional opinion of the case?"

Lily Potter exhaled mournfully, and he knew that was her answer. Any words she would say would only be platitudes, but the sigh told him exactly what he knew but didn't want to believe.

Despite Severus's efforts, despite all the work they had tried to accomplish, they were looking for a cure for his wife, because unless a miracle walked across their desks and did a conga line with the ink wells, his mother was going to die. Perhaps not today or tomorrow or next week, but they simply did not have time to save her, not as things stood. And she would die.

And Draco did not know what he would do. He did not know how the loss would impact his wife's spirits, or how Severus would be when his raison d'être was gone. And he did not know how he would bury his mother.

/-/

Catherine turned and turned over the things Albus Dumbledore had explained to her about the contract system when her grandmother was young, the state of society before the war—or perhaps between the wars. From what he described, it was just after his defeat of Grindelwald when everything really took off.

"Kitty?"

She looked up at Kevin, who seemed mildly surprised to see her.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Brum?"

"I've got the managers minding the store," she said, taking off her gloves. "I wanted to check on the progress of the concentrated potions Severus sent our way."

"Ah," Kevin said, as though he believed her, although she knew he didn't. She hated coming to London, whatever the reason. "It's coming along well. We should have the first shipments out within a week. I wish we could do it sooner, but the pesky moon cycles aren't on our side. They keep well, though, so we should be able to do bulk orders and keep them to ship as needed."

"Have we got the storeroom space for that?" Catherine asked, pushing through to see the back rooms.

"Ingredient stores are tight," he said, frowning, "but we haven't had much call lately for long-term potion storage. Stuff goes pretty fast, and most of our orders are custom, anyway. We know precisely how much is needed and make it on site, on the spot. Kitty, how are things?"

"What things?" she asked, checking the label of a potion near the door.

"I don't know," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Things with your daughter. Things with your husband. Things at Brum. Whatever things have brought you here, where you hate being."

Catherine's jaw twitched. The truth was, she'd wanted to check in on Albus Dumbledore again, but she felt guilty about how much work she'd skipped out on already and wanted to spend a day overviewing all her sites, all their projects, keeping herself up to speed.

"Cynthia's doing lovely, looking for flats. I think they have a couple they're considering. Things with Harry are splendid as usual, thank you. And as for Brum, I have two managers who can run the store beautifully in my absence, so I can hardly complain. Now, can I see the London sales figures why I'm here, or are you going to ask after my dogs, my siblings, and my nieces and nephews while we're at it?"

Kevin clearly wasn't satisfied with her answers, but he walked her to his office and pulled out sales figures for her to go over while he checked on his managers and the running of the shop. Catherine pored over each page she'd not yet examined, her placed marked with a special red parchment adhered to the edge of the last page she'd read, on the spot she'd stopped. Catherine found spare parchment and some ink to check the figures as she went along, which she only did every other month, usually with Kevin. But Catherine needed excuses for being productive before she moved on to Cardiff, and this seemed as good an excuse as any. She dug into the files, and checked every figure on the sheet, and when she was satisfied there were no errors and business in London was good, she replaced the book and thanked Kevin on her way out, walking down the street of Diagon Alley to the Apparation point, where she pictured the alley behind her Cardiff branch in her mind.

Cynthia was in charge in Cardiff, and she would ask more questions than Kevin, but Catherine was determined, regardless.

/-/

Angelina Johnson-Weasley was good at her job. She headed the Vaccination Office in the relatively new Department of Magical Health and Health Education, when she wasn't busy parenting her two children, or her husband.

She was just compiling the new vaccination records when Madam Potter entered the office looking exhausted as she pulled her credentials out of her satchel. Not that she needed them, one of the most recognizable women in the wizarding world, but Minister Malfoy had insisted the Ministry take paperwork and professionalism more seriously, and Madam Potter had been a major proponent of all the changes under this auspice.

"Hard meeting?" Angelina asked, watching the minute secretary check the badges.

"Always are when I must meet with the Minister," Madam Potter said darkly, thanking the secretary when she was approved, and following Angelina deeper into the department. "I'm afraid Doris and I are going to have to kibosh some hard-worked-for research tomorrow. It's not producing the necessary results."

Angelina knew what this meant: the research was not producing results that would prolong, improve, or save the lives of Draco Malfoy's mother or wife. If she hadn't seen the suffering of this disease firsthand over the course of working for Madam Potter, she might have called the minister selfish. But to know he'd seen his father suffer and die from the disease, that and to know he would lose two of the other most important persons in his life to the same painfully protracted disease…. Angelina couldn't help but pity the man. And the strides he'd forced from the wizarding world in the name of public health because of his sufferings had been invaluable to the wizarding world as a whole. So, Angelina expressed her sympathies, and went back to work with a heavy heart.

/-/

Luna reviewed each upcoming edition with caution, even checking the work of the copy and layout editors meticulously before approving an edition for publication. She wanted to keep the high standards of quality her father had set with the original _Quibbler_ , even if she lost sleep doing it. She was surprised by a knock at the door, but she set aside the page she was measuring and told the person knocking to enter.

Blaise Zabini himself entered, and she greeted him with mild surprise. He very rarely visited the sites, preferring to keep to himself and let his employees run their various domains. Not that Luna was bothered by his presence, merely surprised.

"I wanted to speak with you," he said as she offered him a drink and he declined, "about the possibility of further expansion, and a role you might play in that, if you are so inclined."

Luna hummed, motioning him on. She had quite enough on her plate, but she wasn't completely opposed to the idea of doing her bit, depending on the role. And Luna never turned down anything without hearing it out first, whether it was the pitch for a journal article or request to be employed, and she would make no exceptions here.

/-/

Severus listened to Draco's prattle at dinnertime and realized the meeting with Lily must have been a poor one. It must have turned up very little in the line of promising new research, because Draco never spoke this much unless he was upset about something. Astoria and Scorpius seemed to have reached the same conclusion, and Scorpius's soft voice broke the awkwardness.

"Gran wants to have a visit from her solicitor," he said. "She mentioned it this evening when I took her some tea."

Draco dropped his fork with a clatter and Severus grabbed for his water goblet with a horrible sensation of tightening in his throat. The only reason for Narcissa to meet with her solicitor was to make sure her affairs were in order. She had revised her will shortly after she was diagnosed, but perhaps she wanted to make changes, or review the contents, or even to make stipulations for her funeral.

Whatever the reasoning, Severus wanted to tell her she wasn't allowed to meet with her solicitor, not while he still drew breath, not while he could still convince himself there was some way to save her.

"I will make arrangements," Draco said, his voice tight and almost strangled. The way Severus felt.

"I suppose I should meet with my solicitor as well," Astoria said as though she were only commenting on desiring a new set of dress robes, or the schedule for cleaning the silver. Draco's nostrils flared. "It wouldn't have to be immediately, but it will have to be done. Scorpius, would you please pass the potatoes?"

Draco wiped his mouth, set his napkin beside his plate, and swept out of the room without a word. Scorpius stood as if to go after his father, but Severus put his hand on the young man's arm, shaking his head. He exchanged a glance with the slightly-trembling Astoria before he followed Draco out to his study and stopped him from pouring a glass of whisky.

"I ought to rid you of that garbage," Severus said quietly, setting the decanter back on the tray. Draco's nostrils flared again. "You've seen personally how depending on such means can destroy a man, or a woman. Your wife is frightened, Draco. She is trying to make sense of her condition. You need to speak with her, be open with her."

"Like you've been open with my mother?" Draco said. His words bit into Severus's rawest nerves, reminding him Narcissa would die and Severus would still have never said how much he loved her. The world they lived in, Severus thought bitterly.

"Not the same," Severus whispered. "Not remotely the same. Draco, you are strong, but you are not unbreakable. Astoria knows this. She just wants you to acknowledge it, to talk about your fears so she can feel free to talk about hers. She is not your mother, nor do I think she wishes to be her. So, give her a chance to speak her fears. Because you, Draco, are not me, and you are not your father. With any luck, you'll prove a better man than either one of us."

/-/

Lily spread out her notes on the Malfoy women across the dining room table, just organizing the latest test results when she heard James coming in the front door. She asked him how he was and he said fine before coming in to the dining room, frowning at the papers she'd spread out.

"Remind me to kill whoever decided Melantha would make a good Prefect," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her temple.

"You don't really want to kill Filius, darling," Lily said with a small smile, picking up Narcissa's blood test, running her thumb down the figures. She needed to do some comparisons with the blood tests on file for similar cases, but it wasn't looking promising. She wondered whether she ought to tell Severus, or give him a slightly glossed-up version of the truth.

"No," James sighed. "You've got bad news, haven't you? I never see you doing all this unless you've got bad news."

"It's nothing," Lily lied. She set down the blood test and turned to her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. She liked the way he still responded so eagerly to her kisses, as he had done when they were young. In the way he interacted with her, it was as though she hadn't aged a day.

James hummed into the kiss, pulling her closer. She knew he was about to suggest they go upstairs, and she wouldn't get much work done, but it was better than telling her husband that she was failing Narcissa and thus Severus, better than having to face her inability to beat this disease.

Better than a lot of things in life, actually.

As predicted, James pulled slightly out of the kiss and whispered they should go upstairs. Lily smiled to herself, pulling out of his arms and leading the way, feeling him following close behind as they climbed the stairs. Almost as soon as she stepped into their bedroom, he pulled her body back against his, kissing her neck, from her earlobe down to the joining of her shoulder and her neck.

"I love you," he whispered, and she sighed at the trembling emotion in his voice. "Lily, I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she said, lifting her hand to tangle her fingers in his wild hair. "James, darling, you're shaking."

"It's nothing," he said, although she knew he was lying as he grinned. "Nothing, darling. If I take off my glasses, would you help me to the bed?"

She did, and he pulled off his robes and shirt, tossing them aside as Lily stood, watching her husband. She wondered what happened before he came home, that he was so tense and trembling. At work, perhaps, or his quick stop at Sirius and Cara's place he did twice weekly. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew whatever was wrong spelled problems for her work—the only reason she could see for him lying to her.

 **A/N: So, Draco struggles to find a thing to hold onto in his quest for a cure, Catherine tries to do real life, and Lily and James avoid saying what they're really thinking.**

 **Review Prompt: What do you think has James so worked up?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Who are Adra's parents? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Sorry, I'm terrible about updating the chart of persons. To be fair, though, it's gotten so big, I actually need a spreadsheet. It's very involved. For everybody's reference, Adrasteia is the daughter of Rabastan Lestrange and Delia Greengrass Lestrange. She's the elder sister of Brontes and Aeson, and the half-cousin of Catherine, Jason, and Caroline. Don't be afraid to ask questions like this! It's a great refresher for everyone, revisiting the basics from time to time!**

 **Q: Is Snape close to finding a cure for Narcissa? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: In short, no. He's closer than he was, but he and Lily are still well off from discovering the cure, unless something comes up and nips them on the nose.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	6. Reinvention

**A/N: I was on the road, and the website wasn't agreeing with me, so this is a tad late and I apologize! I've done what I can do.**

 **-C**

Draco poured himself a glass of whisky and watched from his own balcony as his mother and Severus Snape spoke in low voices on the far balcony—his mother's balcony. His eyes were on them, but his mind was at the Ministry, thinking of the paperwork he signed for his son's department, authorizing further research into the irregularities of unintended convergences of time and space. It sounded harmless enough to an untrained ear, but Draco knew the kinds of bending of reality involved were dangerous and complicated, and that if things went wrong it might bring down the whole fabric of the building. Or of London.

Of course, it had to be done, but Draco couldn't stop feeling uneasy about the Department of Mysteries, although it had its uses.

He saw his mother shake her head, and Severus Snape pressed her hand to his lips. Draco was impressed that his mother was well enough to shake her head. Many days, this was too taxing for her.

Draco thought of a personnel request to fill a breech in Cedric's department: Cormac McLaggen had attempted suicide, and was still comatose in Madam Potter's Brighton Clinic. Plenty of people in Cedric's department would be suitable replacements, in short or long term, and Draco would have to give approval for the recommendations Cedric put forward. Whichever Cedric chose would be more than adequate.

Draco stepped back into his bedroom and frowned at the sight of his wife, laying in bed at this hour. He thought about going right past her, letting her sleep, but she said his name and he realized she wasn't sleeping. His hands felt heavy as he sat beside her on the bed, leaning in to brush hair from her face.

"How do you feel today?" he asked, wishing he sounded more hopeful and positive than he felt. He made all the adjustments to his wife's regimen that Madam Potter suggested, but very little seemed to do any good. He could fool himself, but it was perhaps better for everyone if he didn't try.

"I've felt better," she said, trying to sit up, but unable to do so without his help. Draco pressed a kiss to her temple and closed his eyes, thinking of his mother and Professor Snape on the balcony. His mother's little way of pretending she was alright, sitting on the balcony and not laying in her bed. What little ways would Astoria develop to try to keep her illusion of independence and wellness as she deteriorated?

"Scorpius is going to a friend's for dinner," Draco said softly, although he knew his wife would not be eating downstairs. She was too week.

"Eveleen?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask him?"

"He is not a child, Astoria. He is a man, with his own job and his own life. If he wishes to have dinner with Eveleen, it is not my business."

"It is when he marries her."

Draco smiled against his wife's forehead and said, "Well, if he decides to marry her, that will change matters. For now, it's not my business."

Astoria would have argued that Scorpius had already decided and Draco was simply being stubborn and obtuse because his own father had been too meddling. But she was obviously too tired to fight, even in play, and she extracted herself from his hold, laying down again, smiling weakly up at him.

Draco exhaled, shifting on the bed and resting his head on her chest, wishing she would raise a weak hand and brush her fingers through his hair, the way she used to do. He closed his eyes.

"Do you know, Madam Potter mentioned that Delia Lestrange has been spending a lot of time in Hogsmeade."

"It's probably all rumors, dear," Draco said, his lips twitching at his wife's pointed reference to the rumors surrounding Delia Lestrange and Remus Lupin. Only ever whispered, it was regularly suggested that the society widow and the school's headmaster were carrying on a romantic liaison. Draco wasn't sure he believed it, and neither his mother nor his wife were well enough to ferret out the truth of the matter, but he did find it amusing to think of. That someone as snobbish about blood purity as Delia Lestrange would ever have a knowing affair with an ex-werewolf, for one, was enough comedy to keep Draco supplied for some time.

"We should invite her to tea."

"Who, Madam Potter? She's here every week."

"No," his wife said, exasperated. "Madam Lestrange. It's the only way we're ever going to know."

Draco would have laughed, but he sighed. His wife was not well enough to have guests for tea, even someone who was practically family, but he knew she wanted to feel normal. If he could find a way to arrange it where she barely had to lift a finger as hostess…

"We'll see," he said slowly. Having Madam Potter there was too much like a nursemaid, but if he could talk Kitty into joining them…. Or even Cynthia…. "We'll see. Would you like some tea?"

"No," she said, but he knew she would want it, and that it was good for her to drink, so he sat up, kissed her jaw, and went to find an elf to bring his wife tea.

/-/

Astoria forced herself to sit up, knowing her husband wound send tea, regardless of her wishes. She would drink it, regardless of her desires, knowing it would be good for her and he would be terribly upset if he'd made the gesture for nothing. When she was suitably propped on the pillows, she reached to her nightstand, for a stack of letters she'd left there. She could see the row of potions and pills Madam Potter had left for her, and she tried not to think how useless it all was, how she was dying anyway, and it would make no difference whether she took the things or not.

It made her husband feel secure, her taking the medicine, so she would continue to take it, regardless of how she felt about it. But Astoria was certain she would die, anyway.

Her hand closed around the little stack of letters and she brought them to her lap, unfolding and reading one at a time. Mostly, they were from Ginny Zabini, discussions of their children and the obvious preliminary stages of courtship. Several were from Luna Weasley, two from Hermione Longbottom. Although Adrasteia Lestrange visited frequently, she was a letter writer, and a large portion of the stack were from her. Astoria had never known anyone else to be quite as good at taking as much space as possible to say practically nothing.

Astoria closed her eyes and thought, with a bitter laugh, that if she were well enough, she would have found a way to see Adrasteia married by now. She had all sorts of ideas for whom to set up on dates with Adrasteia, but had little ability to push them together, and her husband would be less than useless in this matter.

She was just about to open the one letter she'd received from Catherine Potter when tea was brought, and Astoria hastily replaced the letters on the nightstand, thanking the elf and smoothing a spot across her lap for the tea. It was prepared and poured to perfection, and when the elf left, she cautiously sipped at the tea, making certain it was well cool before allowing herself to enjoy it.

Draco would return soon, she knew. She would talk with him again about Scorpius's relationship with Eveleen Zabini and how they would proceed with it. If she was going to die, she wanted to see her son married, first, perhaps a grandchild. With any luck and skill, she might manage to get the wedding in before her mother-in-law passed, and perhaps even the grandchild.

Today was not a day where Astoria was hopeful. She did have some days where she was convinced she would beat the disease, that Severus and Madam Potter would find the cure and save even Narcissa Malfoy from the clutches of death. Perhaps they would find a way to cure death itself. It was an appealing thought.

Today was not such a day. Today, she was certain of death, and expected it sooner rather than later. She thought only of how little time was left to accomplish everything she felt it was her duty to accomplish, such as her son's marriage and finding happiness for the likes of Delia Lestrange and Adrasteia Lestrange. She could only see what she could not do, rather than what she could, and she knew tomorrow would be different. Perhaps tomorrow she would be strong enough for a walk in the garden, tea downstairs, breakfast with the family. But today, today she thought only of death and her ticking clock.

When Draco returned to the room, her tea was mostly gone, and Astoria forced a smile, asking if he knew what sort of wedding Scorpius would like to have. Draco smiled tightly, sitting at her feet, indulging her in the conversation he clearly did not want to have. But Astoria didn't mind. As long as they talked about anything other than her illness or mortality.

/-/

Remus took his office floo to Lestrange Manor, feeling his hands sweat as he stepped out of the grate and into the grand home. Technically, it was owned by Brontes, but he allowed his mother to run it as she had before Rabastan vanished, and Remus had the sense that Delia would be the lady of the house until her eventual death.

He found her in the sitting room, pretending to read as if she hadn't been expecting him, and he followed tradition: he bent low to kiss her hand, aware of just how low he was to her, in her world, in her reckoning. Not only a Half-blood, but a werewolf. Cured, but he still had wolfish qualities and tendencies.

It hadn't been his intention to begin whatever this was. He had spent a great deal of time at Lestrange Manor, meeting with Rose and Aeson between terms, discussing delicate matters with Rose there to avoid being overheard by someone at the school or in some public place. Visiting the Manor involved visiting with Delia, at least for a short time, and as he spent more and more time there, he found that he was spending longer and longer stretches in her presence, and then alone in her presence, and then finding excuses to visit her, and be alone with her.

She had always been a beautiful woman, but there were a million reasons he had not deigned to notice for years. She'd been another man's wife, for one thing. She had often been the source of trouble with her selectively loose lips. She was second only to Lucius in bigotry and small-minded, old-fashioned views. But the world had changed, and Delia seemed to change with it over the last ten years, becoming almost a different woman since the death of her husband.

Delia checked her watch, touching his cheek and giving him a considering look before she said, "Come with me, Remus."

She never used his first name, and for some reason this simple thing caused a painful jolt of excitement in Remus. He followed her to the second floor, to the far wing, and his pulse jumped in his throat as he speculated why she might be leading him here, toward her apartment. He couldn't recall feeling so aroused in decades, perhaps since he was a young man recovering in Sirius's flat, listening to Sirius and Cara make love on the sofa while he pretended to sleep in the next room. But they hadn't even kissed, Remus reasoned as she opened the door to her boudoir. Surely….

"Come," she said, the tone like Catherine used when disciplining or ordering her dogs, and Remus felt another rush of arousal as he followed Delia into the room.

It was soft, feminine, fragrant, luxurious. Everything he would have expected, but somehow more. She sat on a chaise and motioned for him to join her, which he did without hesitation. Remus could feel his heart in his throat as he looked into her eyes. She was no longer a young woman, but he was far from a young man. And yet, he felt young again, and he thought her utterly beautiful as he leaned in tentatively. She pulled him in for a kiss, and Remus tried to decide what to do with the hands he couldn't even feel. All his nerve endings seemed to be in his lips as she kissed him, and Remus closed his eyes, savoring every delicious second for fear it might end.

/-/

Cedric visited the Brighton clinic on his lunch break, greeting the familiar sight of Tatton Dobbs at reception. He was waved through, as he always came for the same thing. He was well aware of where to go.

When he arrived at the ward for Potions and Plant Poisoning, he almost ran right into Eloise Midgeon, who smiled nervously. He smiled and shrugged, no need to apologize for running her down. They'd known each other well since school, and he still felt uneasy to see how her nose was just slightly off-kilter from where it had been at eleven: an attempt to get rid of her acne using undiluted bubotuber pus. She'd learned a lot from the incident, and specialized in the accidental poisonings of hysterical teens. She was very good with them.

"Cho's with him now," Eloise said, gesturing toward Cormac's private room. "She's convinced he's going to make a full recovery."

"You're still not sure," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Coma patients always do better if they want to live," Eloise said with a frown. "I mean, having you come in and talk to him is helpful, but if he truly felt he had nothing to live for, enough to kill himself, I don't know that his will to live would be strong enough to pull him through, you understand."

Cedric did understand, but he hoped Eloise was wrong. He crossed to the room and watched as Cho took a blood sample from Cormac's pale, stubby finger.

"Good afternoon," Cho said softly.

They tried not to see or speak to each other, as much as possible. Cho still had not got over the way Cedric dropped her the moment he learned that Catherine had been injured. It did not matter how many years stood between them and their absurd teenage selves. He would always be one of the men who had loved Catherine Black more than her.

"Is he any better today?" Cedric asked as she sealed the vial for testing and adjusted the sheet over him.

"I think so," Cho said coolly. "But then, what do I know? Perhaps you should have Mrs. Potter come take a look."

Cedric said nothing as she left the room. Cho was an accomplished Healer, the head of her department at the clinic. She had proved her worth to society a hundred times over, even pioneering modern treatment for coma patients using a blend of Muggle and magical practice. But when she and Cedric were in a room together, they reverted to the worst versions of their teenage selves, and he tried his best not to take the bait. Instead, he sat and caught the unconscious Cormac up on all the comings and goings at the office.

/-/

Remus wasn't sure how it happened, but he was lying in a bed with Delia Lestrange, skin on skin. He tried to catch his breath, to make sense of how they'd gone from kissing on the chaise to this. It was so hard to think or catch his breath as she traced her fingers lazily along his neck.

"You need more practice," she said, not exactly with derision, but without any joke in her voice.

It wasn't false. He certainly hadn't had sex in far too long.

"I'm sorry," he began, but she pressed a cool finger to his lips and smiled, amused.

"Don't be sorry," she said, leaning back against the pillow. "You have a great deal of potential, and with training, I think you'll make an excellent lover."

He closed his eyes, feeling her body shift against his, as if she was slithering up him. Perhaps it was the curse of working at a school, but he felt he was being graded, and while his work was not unsalvageable, he'd need to work hard to earn top marks. Trained, molded, but in the end he would be an excellent lover.

He wanted to be an excellent lover. He wanted her to enjoy time with him as much as he enjoyed feeling her against him. She pulled him in for a kiss again, and Remus did not hesitate to return the kiss, eager and hungry.

"No, no," she whispered against his lips, almost laughing. "Tease me."

"Tease?"

"Your eagerness is endearing, but if you're going to make the most of it, save that level for the end. Tease."

He hesitated before pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and with her encouragement, he feathered kisses along her skin, not applying pressure beyond a brush. Every little thing she said he soaked in, and a tiny, almost vicious little voice in the back of his head said he would learn quickly, learn well. He would be the best lover she ever had, better than her husband and anyone she'd had in between This time, he would get the life he wanted, not just what his station in life told him he deserved.

He whispered her name against her collarbone and continued to kiss down her body, down, down, between her legs, where he surprised her by pressing kisses between her thighs. But he thought he must be doing this well, because she did not direct him and she curled her fingers into his hair. A rush of arousal and pride, and Remus redoubled his efforts. Perhaps this was where eagerness served him best.

 **A/N: So, Draco and Astoria deal with her illness and gossip, Remus is in a relationship with Delia, and Cho is treating a comatose Cormac.**

 **Review Prompt: Thoughts on this thing with Remus and Delia? Doomed or beautiful?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: How will Catherine react when she finds out? Will she tell people or keep it to herself? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Catherine will have some other things on her mind when she finds out about Rabastan, and it's in trying to grapple with those other things that she ends up talking to Severus and Lily about what happened. But she won't tell Harry.**

 **Q: Will we see flashbacks between Catherine and Rabastan? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: I don't really like flashbacks, and at this point in my writing career, I'm philosophically opposed to them. If people want to see what happened, they can go back to Part 3. If there's something I didn't include in a previous part that you want to see, or something between parts you want to see (especially between parts, like Sirius as a young father, or maybe Rohesia's POV during Part One events), just ask for a one shot! I'm happy to oblige reasonable requests for any one shot related to this series. But don't expect flashbacks here.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	7. Seeds of Romance

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! Enjoy!**

 **-C**

Adrasteia sat with Cedric Diggory at a little café in the wizarding section of Birmingham, smoothing her robes over her legs and watching his hand shake as he tried to stir sugar into his coffee. She had been surprised when he asked to see her again that day in Diagon Alley, and the more often he ran into her or met up with her, the more he asked to see her. It was flattering. He had not lost his good looks, although they were not quite as pronounced as when they were young and he outgrew his awkwardness before everyone else.

"Are you going to tell me your intentions, Mr. Diggory?" she asked sweetly, pouring a bit of cream into her tea.

"Intentions?" he said, his eyes going wide.

Her lips curled.

"You see, despite my lack of a marriage, there is still a certain way a lady of my standing is meant to conduct her personal life. If your intentions are simply to have lunch and tea and drinks from time to time, I will not mention it again. But if you have other…intentions, there's a way things must be done."

His eyes searched her face, and she seemed to see recognition there. Was it possible he had thought of courting her but hadn't thought she would be interested? She knew her cousin had done a number on his confidence, back in school, but surely he'd dated since then.

"I…do not know," he said, nervous. "I…know only that I enjoy our time together, and that I…would like to spend more time together, if you…would let me."

Adrasteia glanced around the café, making certain there were no familiar faces before she rested her hand on his, tracing a finger up the soft, swollen vein that snaked up the center of his hand. His nostrils flared and his body leaned forward slightly. Whatever he thought he might want, she knew she was in control of the relationship. She thought of her brothers, how Brontes followed all the rules of courtship, and how Aeson rejected them. She thought of her cousin, who found a balance between contracts and taking what she wanted.

"Why don't we finish these drinks," Adrasteia said softly, "and you show me your place?"

His lips parted, and he hesitated only a beat before he agreed to this plan. She would not sleep with him, not today, but she would tease him, and some things were better discussed in private. A glass of wine and some privacy, and he might be loose enough to say what he was truly thinking, instead of what he thought he should say, or what he thought she wanted to hear.

And what she wanted to hear was for him to tell her she was lovely, as no one had done in many years. Not without a hint of irony about their tone. She wanted him to lean in for a kiss, so she could tell him she needed more commitment for kisses. She wanted to reel him in.

/-/

Cedric could feel his heart in his throat as he let her in to his modest house. She had a mansion, and his home was….

"Quaint," she said, not with derision in her voice. He reminded himself that her aunt and uncle lived in a cottage smaller than this.

He took her cloak, offered her a drink, and poured her some wine. He poured firewhiskey for himself, not because he liked it but because he felt he would need the extra kick from the warm fluid to give him courage.

"I know a little," he said as she sipped her wine, "of the traditions of courtship."

"Many of them are obsolete," she said wearily, setting her glass aside and draping herself attractively on the sofa across from him. He struggled to breathe. "There are a few things, however, which are still useful. I have no need for a protracted contract period, for example, and only Brontes followed the rule of no kisses before marriage."

"I've heard Draco and Astoria followed that rule as well," Cedric said, almost wryly. "You say no…protracted period of contract, but…you would want a contract?"

"It's necessary," she said lazily. "Why," she added, her lips curling with amusement, "are you thinking of putting one forward?"

Cedric's heart seemed to be completely confused, pumping blood as though he were fleeing something terrible, so high in his throat he thought it might dance right out of his mouth. He hadn't dared to think she might be interested in…in…. He closed his eyes and saw the dream he'd had the night before, a violently passionate dream where he woke up dizzy and panting.

How did she produce this in him?

"If I did," he said, his throat tight around the words, "would you…would you accept it?"

Her lip curled again and he was astonished that she crossed to him, perching on the arm of his chair, leaning her body close enough to his that he could feel the heat radiating from her. He licked his lips, allowing himself to lean in. Perhaps she would kiss him. Perhaps she would let him kiss her.

"I was just going to tease you today," she said thoughtfully, tracing a finger along his jaw, "but I think we understand each other, Mr. Diggory." He held his breath as she pressed her lips to his. His heart raced ever faster, and he let a hand twitch toward her waist. Before he could touch her, she leaned back slightly and said, "I haven't time enough to waste anymore, Diggory. Are you serious, or aren't you?"

He knew he ought to slow down, to stop from stumbling in headlong as he'd done after Catherine in his youth, but the words tumbled off his tongue before he could catch himself, and he realized he meant them, anyway:

"Marry me."

/-/

Blaise drafted a letter to Catherine. She'd promised to meet up sometime soon and discuss her branching onto the continent, but every time he'd tried to set up lunch with her, she'd claimed to already have something else on. He knew he wasn't coinciding with the various luncheons her status in society required of her, and he didn't suppose she had business meetings every day of the week. She certainly wasn't just rushing home to Harry for her lunchtimes, either, because she would have been professional enough to say so or tell Harry she had to meet with Blaise.

So, he drafted the letter, and put it on hold, dropping by the London branch of the apothecary to see Kevin Whitby, who was doing some brewing in the back when Blaise arrived. A manager showed him back, and Blaise resisted the urge to cover his nose. He'd always hated potions.

"Just finishing up some things for St. Mungo's," Kevin said brightly, not looking up from whatever he was stirring. It had to be delicate, Blaise knew, if Kevin didn't simply do a spell for it to stir automatically. "If you're looking for Kitty, you're at the wrong branch."

"No, no, I wanted you," Blaise said, frowning at the potion. "Is that for the retrovirus?"

"No, just some plain old Wizarding mumps. I can't fathom what you'd want me for. Kitty's the creative brains of the group."

"I actually wanted to ask if you'd noticed anything…unusual about her behavior of late," Blaise said softly. "Because she said she'd meet with me, and she's been inexplicably busy every time I attempt to set a time."

Kevin hesitated, but he looked up from the potion. Blaise knew something was going on.

/-/

Cedric stretched out on the sofa beside Adrasteia, their legs dangling over one arm, their heads resting on the other. She had let him put his arm around her waist, so he held her as close as she would let him. They'd discussed the contract, discussed a timeline for a long engagement, and then decided they wanted a slightly shorter engagement.

"Perhaps things won't move as quickly as they did for my youngest brother," she said, resting her head on his chest, "but as I said, I am not getting younger. Time is precious."

He nodded. He thought of his dream the night before, and he rolled closer to her, pressing a kiss to her jaw before he shifted his hand, trying to find the clasp for her robes. Adrasteia chuckled against his lips and squeezed his hand, pulling it away from the clasp and back to her waist.

"Now, now, now," she teased. "Not until the wedding night."

Cedric groaned.

"Let's get married tonight," he whispered against her skin, and she laughed again, twisting her body so she was on top of him. He closed his eyes. Surely, she could feel his erection. Surely, she knew he was going mad trying to control himself. He opened them again to see her smiling down at him. "Please?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a laugh.

"Tomorrow."

"No," she sighed. "Weddings are things that must be planned. I don't think I want a very large one, though."

He hummed. He'd worried she'd be like her cousin and have a massive wedding that became the event of the season. He could certainly justify it with his status at the Ministry, but he didn't want all that fuss.

"A week."

"Oh, honestly."

"Two weeks?"

She flicked his nose playfully and leaned down to kiss him before he could beg any further.

/-/

It was a third date. Dennis combed his hair and tried to iron his shirt, but he supposed the ironing didn't have to be perfect. Demelza was only coming over for tea. But still, a third date.

He tried to smooth out the few persistent wrinkles, and he set up for tea, checking his pocket watch with a frown. She was a pretty girl, she seemed to be interested in him, but he kept it quiet. He didn't know why, exactly. At first, when he first asked her for drinks, he told himself it was because everyone would tease him if they found out he was seeing someone after all these years, and what would he say if it didn't last?

But he knew it was a lie.

Now, he just knew he wanted to meet her in private, at his flat or hers. He'd suggested a few Muggle places, but Demelza never seemed very interested in the Muggle scene, the clubs Dennis went to when he tried to have a life outside of his married friends and sibling.

She arrived about five minutes late—standard for Demelza—and he took her cloak, telling her to tuck in.

He'd always been good at cooking, cleaning, keeping house. He'd half-jokingly offered to move with Jimmy and Cora and keep house for them when they got married, but he was glad now that they'd made him get his own place. He valued his privacy.

At least, he did now. Now that he'd been forced into have his own space, he couldn't imagine giving it up easily after so many years. Of course, he knew dating could only end one of two ways. He hadn't thought of marriage, but the idea of the break-up had occurred to him already. The first thing he did when he went on more than one date was begin drafting his break-up speech. He liked to sound sensitive, understanding, regretful. He thought that was his specialty, and he always liked to be prepared. It wasn't that he wanted his relationships to end, but he knew when they were ready, and he never lingered longer than necessary in a relationship.

He hated bitterness.

Demelza might be different, though, he thought for the first time. He wasn't sure he believed it, even as he sat across from her, pouring his tea. He tossed a few cubes of sugar into the tea and thought, maybe he should start drafting that break-up speech, just in case.

/-/

With Adrasteia's permission, Cedric drafted the engagement announcement as soon as she left. He would personally deliver it to Columbine Peakes, and it would likely make the next edition of the Daily Prophet. From there, it would be a simple matter of begging Adrasteia to speed things along while she planned the wedding however she pleased.

He felt dizzy as he wrote the announcement, and he wondered how this all could have happened so quickly. He wondered if he was thinking with his head or his primal urges, and he thought of asking advice, but he didn't know who could give it to him. His father was definitely out. He didn't have any friends at work he could trust with something of this magnitude.

For one wild moment, he thought of Catherine, but that would be inappropriate, under the circumstances. And while he did think of asking Harry, he'd just get Catherine's input, regardless. No, he wanted someone a little more removed.

Then he thought of Jason Black. He'd become close enough with the man during Cynthia's troubles, and he trusted Jason's judgment. Jason understood the world Adrasteia lived in, and Adrasteia, and the rest of her family and their expectations. But he would also know Cedric well enough to know his temperament, his moods. He should be able to give reasoned advice, which was what Cedric thought he needed. Someone unemotional enough to help Cedric cool his passion enough to think.

He set the announcement aside and drew up a quick note to Jason, requesting to meet and asking for his counsel on a matter of the greatest importance and urgency. He wasn't sure Jason would see it in that way, but he hoped Jason would at least be indulgent.

He sent the note to Jason first and read back over the announcement, turning it in his hands. Was he being foolish, or was this what love was?

/-/

Columbine stretched on their bed and watched Cynthia scribble a note on a brochure for the flat they were most seriously interested in. She wondered if Cynthia ever paused to think how their moving out would affect her father, who loved to spoil them. They often lived on the basement level, although their room was on the second floor, lounging in the game room or the theatre, showering downstairs or even sleeping down there, when they had the notion.

Now, they were looking at a flat of their own, in Oxford.

"I'll have to ask Dad if he'll store some things here," Cynthia said with a frown. "Even if I want to magically extend the wardrobe, it'll be asking a lot."

Columbine rolled her eyes. Never would she dare suggest Cynthia sell or donate something instead of store it somewhere at the manor. Not that the Potters didn't have the space, but it did seem mildly inconsiderate, to Columbine. She'd never have dared ask her parents to do such a thing, not that she'd had much before she moved in at the Manor, and she'd kept even less when she did move.

"So, we're closing?" Columbine said, standing and crossing to where Cynthia was scribbling the note frantically.

"Hmm? Yeah," Cynthia said, not looking up. "She'll send over the paperwork tomorrow. The note is just some thoughts on décor."

Columbine wrapped her arms about Cynthia's waist and kissed her graceful neck. Cynthia dropped the quill and leaned back into Columbine. It did feel good, striking out on their own.

/-/

Cedric met Jason at the Black's clinic at close of business for the day. Jason waved him in as he notated some files, and Cedric sat without being invited to. He knew Jason wasn't the sort to mind. Jason's office was one of the few in the wizarding world where no alcohol sat out to be offered, but he did say Cedric could help himself to butterbeer, if he was so inclined. Cedric smiled at the Black-friendly alternative, and he poured himself a glass of this too-sweet beverage. It had been a long time since he'd last had a butterbeer.

"So, what's this emergency?" Jason asked, a bit wearily, as he shoved a stack of papers to the side and set down his quill.

"It's…not business," Cedric said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's about…. Well, it's about your cousin."

"Which cousin?"

"Miss Lestrange."

Jason's eyebrows shot up, but he poured himself some butterbeer and gestured for Cedric to continue. With the most level speech he could muster, Cedric tried to explain how he'd found himself in the situation he was in, how he felt about the whole matter, and what had transpired at his home that afternoon. He explained his feelings, and Jason folded his hands, thoughtful.

"So," Jason said slowly, "what concerns do you have? You wouldn't have asked to meet with me if you hadn't concerns."

"No," Cedric said, sighing. "No, I…. I just worry I'm diving in too quickly. You remember my attempts to earn Catherine's attention."

"You were a teenager," Jason said, with a tight, amused, sympathetic smile. "And let's be perfectly honest, Kitty was miles out of your league, Hogwarts Champion or no. You're a man now."

"And I feel a teenager again!" Cedric cried tugging at his hair slightly. "And your cousin is out of my league as well."

"Hardly," Jason said sternly. "Look, Cedric, you might feel like a teenager again. But at our age, that's a blessing. Adra's been humbled with a life spent alone. I expect she's resigned herself to spinsterhood, which would have made her cry when we were children or even as teenagers. She's learned life is harder than it looks, and if she makes you happy and you make her happy, I don't see any reason I shouldn't welcome you to the family now. Don't worry about money. You're hardly poor, and even if you were, Brontes will give her whatever she wants. There's not a lot of warmth between those two, but there is love. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to sleep with your fiancée. I'd be more concerned if you didn't."

Jason's lips twitched and twisted with amusement, and he poured them each more butterbeer, waiting for Cedric to take a drink before he said, "You know, she poses for all her book covers."

Cedric spat the drink he'd been taking back into the glass as Jason laughed.

 **A/N: So, Cedric and Adra are getting married, Dennis and Demelza are secretly dating, and those around Catherine are concerned with her sudden change of behavior.**

 **Review Prompt: Of the two relationships discussed here, are you seeing budding futures or disaster on the horizon?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Cormac play an important part in this season? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Absolutely! Cormac will not be so important in the primary story lines, but for the side action, he'll be a big one.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	8. Pressure Points

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! Just FYI, I've got some crazy stuff going on IRL right now, and it only seems to keep getting crazier. I don't foresee it causing delays in this series and its posting, but if I do go missing for a bit, please know that it's probably me trying to manage my life, and I'll be back as soon as I can.**

 **-C**

Blaise finally sat down with Catherine Potter over an early lunch, but she didn't meet him in Birmingham as he expected she would. She asked if he would meet her at a Muggle café in York, and Blaise obliged. For all his importance, Blaise knew there were people a man always obliges for various reasons, and Catherine Potter was such a person, for all the reasons he knew of. She was powerful in a social sense, powerful in a magical sense, with a famously brittle temper and more money and influence than any one person ought to have. Anyone but him.

She also had the ability to poison him and never have anyone trace the crime, and although he knew she'd never have a reason or inclination to do this, the thought played in his mind every time they sat down for tea.

"How's Ginny?" she asked, almost lazily, as he sat down. She wasn't looking at him, but gazing out the window of the strange second-storey café, above a butcher's shop. Not where Blaise would have put a café. She was squinting at something he could not see, nor did he care very much what it was.

"She's great," he said. "What's kept you so busy?"

"Things," she said. Her voice was sharp, cutting off any further questions on her doings and whereabouts. Whatever she was up to, it was not his business, and Blaise knew when to kerb his curiosity.

"I wanted to ask you about expansion," he said softly.

"Yes, I assumed," she said with a twitch at her lips. "It is the only thing you would come to me about. My name helps, Blaise. My married name in business, my maiden name in politics. Blacks are known around the wizarding world, and Potters aren't far behind. I could set up an apothecary in Mozambique, and it wouldn't be difficult except for the financial and man-power issues facing all enterprises. Even those aren't usually very difficult, though."

He smirked. This didn't help him, and they both knew it. But she was being modest, in her strange way. She was charming, knew the right people, and knew how to grease palms and flatter with the best. She knew the things he needed to learn, and could make the introductions he needed to have.

"Do you think there is much call for your news empire on the continent, Blaise?" she asked, almost lazily. She stretched out her graceful limbs, and Blaise was aware of a Muggle man with his wife and child pausing in drinking his coffee to watch her body move. Blaise might have laughed, but instead he gave the man a stern look and enjoyed the way the man flushed and looked away, as though he'd offended Catherine's husband, or something.

Potter must grow very tired of it.

"I think people grow used to what is there, and the new has a certain gilded quality," he said, smirking. "And you know perfectly well what you could do to help me make the splash I need."

Catherine smirked back, finally meeting his gaze. He was startled, as he always was, by how her brown eyes could be soft and sharp at once. Like a caress with a shock.

"Oh, I know," she said, lofty, lazy. "The question is, Blaise, what are you going to do to make it worth my while, talking up your empire with all my connections and being the unofficial face of your work worldwide?"

He leaned in, knowing she was worth whatever she might ask. He hated doing deals with people like her, hated being beholden to someone who could squash him if she got bored, but she was a friend, in a way. It mitigated some of his hesitation, emboldened him to say what must be said:

"Name your price."

/-/

Shadow pressed his snout into Master's hand, sniffing for signs of food. No food, but the salty scent of Master's skin. Shadow lapped, kissed at Master's hand, and was rewarded with a vigorous scratch behind the ears.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Shadow," Master said as they paused in their walk. Master only ever walked one dog at a time, like Mistress. Master always started with Shadow, where Mistress always started with Sadie.

Shadow did not know why they've stopped, but Master had a serious expression, so Shadow sat patiently at his feet and waited as Master spoke.

"I think we're entering something new again," Master said, unsmiling. "It's not naïve or tainted, like the things we entered before. I don't know what it is yet. But this time, Shadow, this time I want to do it right. Only I…I don't know what I did wrong before, so it's hard to know what to do. Maybe I just need to do something. Kitty's always run our relationship. And I don't really mind. I mean, there were things I wanted, you know? Quidditch, I guess. Maybe a few more children. Or holidays at the sea. I don't know. Something. But none of those things…. I didn't want any of those things as much as I wanted her, and I still don't. Would be nice to have had both, though, wouldn't it? Do you ever love something that takes a part of you, Shadow? Something that never gives it back? I don't mind, but…. It would have been nice. She tried to give me more children. She did try. She didn't really want them, but she tried."

Master's eyes went misty. His eye coverings fogged, and Master wiped at his face. Shadow licked his hand again, earning a less vigorous scratch. Shadow did not need the scratch; he had licked to comfort Master, but the scratch was nice.

"I didn't want to lose her," Master whispered. "I think she would have let me choose that, if it came to it. But I couldn't ask her for more. I didn't want to lose her. Oh, Shadow, look at me. I'm just being silly. C'mon, let's get you across the lawn and get back inside while I've still time for the others, eh?"

/-/

Severus closed the door to Narcissa's bedroom and he decided to spend her nap combing the library for the hundredth time for some new inspiration or insight. He did not give up, would not give up, no matter the hopelessness he saw in the eyes of others when he discussed Narcissa's condition, the progress made in treating and curing the disease.

When he arrived in the library, he was surprised to find Scorpius poring over a very old book. Severus knew all the books in the Malfoy Manor library, having reviewed them all for small nuggets of information, even those books which seemed irrelevant.

"Contract law, Scorpius?" Severus said softly.

Scorpius didn't look up at the words, but hummed.

"They say it's all antiquated, I know," Scorpius said when Severus moved to the bookshelf. "Perhaps it is. Still, I cannot escape the tradition of it. My father was contracted to my mother. My grandfathers were contracted to my grandmothers. Great-Aunts and Great-Uncles, and on down through the years. No anomalies I could find. And so, as the practice has not been outlawed, but simply outdated, I feel obligated to acquaint myself with it fully."

Severus's lips twitched and he said softly, "Miss Zabini?"

Scorpius's cheeks flushed. He looked like his father, Severus mused, the way Draco used to get when Catherine would tease him, or he would fight with Harry. The way Draco got when he would have quiet conversations with Astoria, when he thought no one else could see or hear. Severus recalled the first time he saw Draco kiss Astoria's hand in private, how pleased they both looked with the very small but meaningful development.

How large such things always seemed to the ones involved.

"She is a lovely young woman," Severus said, thinking of Eveleen Zabini. Beautiful, intelligent if not especially talented, with glossy dark hair and skin the shade of coffee heavy with cream. Her eyes were always dull, but her mind never was, sharpness coming strong from both parents. "Very intelligent. And Adrasteia assures me she is a talented writer."

"I haven't read any of it, either," Scorpius said with a smirk. "Not really my thing. Aunt Kitty calls it well-written-dross."

Although it was not sensible, he felt a rush of pride in Catherine, his lifetime's prized pupil, to know she had said precisely what he felt about the sort of writing done by Adrasteia and Eveleen—he did not deign to call it literature.

"She does not take offense to your not reading it?" Severus asked, pulling a book off the shelf.

"I don't really know," Scorpius said. "I doubt it. She loves to make fun of her work. I've read the book jackets."

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. As much as he hated to do it, he would encourage Scorpius to read Eveleen's books. It was the thing a man did for a woman he loved, no matter how distasteful.

/-/

Catherine poured the tea and fixed it just as she'd done from the start of this journey. Dumbledore asked for her to help him by moving the table closer to him, which she did. He smiled, gesturing for her to sit.

"Where was I?" he asked, closing his eyes. "Rohesia Fawley married Magnus Selwyn, yes?" Catherine nodded, then realized he couldn't see her and she said yes, that was where they were. "A summer wedding. I don't recall where they honeymooned. On the continent, somewhere. I believe they had a kind of happiness for a while."

"A kind of happiness?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

He opened his eyes. They were sparkling with amusement and knowledge she would never possess.

"Happiness does not depend upon love," he said gently. "However, it does help. And unhappiness can be closely tied to love."

Catherine thought she understood. Had she been in love with Harry but had to marry someone else, even if it had been someone she liked, like Draco, she would have been unhappy. Still, she and Draco wouldn't have had a bad marriage. But neither of them would have been quite happy.

"As you know, with pureblood marriages, there is a great deal tied to children. Sons, in particular, but children are important." Catherine nodded. "I cannot say for certain, but it is safe to assume Druella and Walburga were already trying for children, and Magnus likely expected to begin trying for children right away. But Rohesia was much as you are, Catherine."

"Me?" she asked, almost afraid of what he might say.

He sat up slightly, sipped his tea, and set it down again. He did not relax into the pillows, but narrowed his eyes slightly at her.

"Not everyone wants children," he said softly. "That is understandable. I never felt the need to have a child. I do not regret it. I believe whatever Severus's regrets, he does not regret not being a father. Not that he would not have excelled at it, you understand. And I believe I would have been an excellent father." She grinned and said he would have, and he nodded his head to acknowledge the mild flattery. "I think you have been a good mother, despite your reservations toward parenting."

Catherine shifted in her seat. Losing Cecilia wasn't her fault, she knew, but she couldn't help thinking it was her fault, still. And while she might have avoided what happened to Cynthia, she couldn't tell herself that her daughter was utterly ruined. Cynthia seemed to have adjusted well from the whole catastrophe, as had Harry.

Catherine was the only one who felt ruined, who seemed fazed. And she didn't know why.

"Rohesia might have wanted a child, under different circumstances," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps not. She was always more interested in her work than in the family sphere. I believe she felt the two were mutually exclusive. They are not, Catherine."

"Then why have you never had a family?" Catherine asked, feeling her stomach squirm. She had always felt, too, that between work and family, one had to give way for the other. Her blessing was that Harry was more than willing to give up work for the family he craved. Or, he was willing not to go back to it after her…meltdown.

Dumbledore smiled sadly, but he did not answer. Instead, he told her how engagements began to pour in for Rohesia's contemporaries in the year following the wedding, Miss Yaxley to Randolph Lestrange, Miss Greengrass to Abraxas Malfoy, etc. Catherine listened, but the unanswered question clung to her even as she listened to his stories.

/-/

James visited Sirius and Cara on his way back from Hogwarts. Not on his way, strictly, but he stopped off there before he went home. He hoped he'd been wrong. He wasn't as well-versed in these things as his wife was. He really, really hoped.

Cara was sleeping, Sirius told him with a wink and a quick grin.

"Wore her out, I think," Sirius said proudly. "We're not as young as we used to be, you know."

"None of us are," James said, narrowing his eyes slightly. He followed Sirius into the cottage, and he held his breath as he asked Sirius if there was any tea about.

"Oh, sure."

James watched, carefully, as Sirius poured him a drink. He saw the tremble, saw the strain in Sirius's arms at something simple, something Sirius once would have thought nothing of and gave little effort to: pouring a cup of tea.

James made a decision in that moment, and before he went home, he went to Potter Manor, calling on his son and his daughter-in-law. When Harry left the room for a moment, James turned to Catherine, who looked weary and thoughtful, as everyone around James seemed lately. He didn't want to do this, but he knew it was the only way.

But Merlin, he didn't want to.

"Kitty, when did you last visit your parents?"

"Hmm?" she said, her brown eyes snapping up to meet his gaze. "Daddy? I don't know, it's been…it's been a few weeks. I mean, a proper visit. That's what you mean?"

"I think you should see them, Kitty."

"I expect we will, soon enough."

"Kitty, tomorrow. Go see them tomorrow." She blinked, puzzled. But James pressed on. "Go have a cup of tea with your dad. Let him make it."

She didn't seem to understand, and James hated himself more than he ever had, even with everything he'd done to protect their children. But she told him she would, with all her earnestness and sincerity, and for a moment he saw Cara looking back at him, young and lost and trusting, earnest and selfless.

James was glad he wouldn't have to be there for that cup of tea, because he couldn't imagine how Catherine would react when she saw her father's hand shake. And he hated himself all the more for his cowardice.

/-/

Albus stared at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat, steady and insistent. He only wished there wasn't so much to cover. It would all take so much time, and time was not a luxury one could count on at 150 years of age. But then, if there weren't so much to cover, it wouldn't be worth telling her all of it. If there weren't so much to cover, she wouldn't have turned to him, because she might feel fulfilled.

He could almost see them in the ceiling, the shapes of faces he had seen all those years ago. If he had recognized Rohesia in her daughter's face, could he have changed things? Had he impressed upon Alphard the importance of love before the contracts poured in, might Alphard have made better choices? If when Magnus turned to him, Albus had gone to speak to Rohesia personally, could he have found a way to fix things?

It was the easiest thing in the world for a man with Albus's imagination to see a world where Cara Selwyn had gone to Hogwarts, been courted by a rebellious and talented Sirius Black, and they might have eloped straight after school. She would have been no one's weapon in a war. Sirius would have been able to choose for himself. Catherine might have been a normal child, without the horrible significance of life and death, war and peace on her shoulders. Jason would not be cursed with his father's fears and anxieties. And perhaps Catherine Potter would be a loving mother and wife, without the years of drugs and divergent behavior in an effort to feel. Her weaknesses would be irrelevant.

But it was too simple to imagine, and thus it would have been impossible. Albus did not believe in the inevitable, but he did not believe anymore in dwelling in a past out of reach, and the subsequent paths history might have taken. It did not take them, and the lure of changing the past was a danger not to be trifled with. Even Albus Dumbledore, the great Albus Dumbledore who certain did not feel great as he stretched his tired bones out underneath the quilt and stared at his ceiling, even he knew there was too much danger in imagining the possibilities in the past.

It was not his place to imagine those things. It would be irrelevant, unimportant, if he only had time and a bit of luck. If he could only help Catherine see the lay of things, and that her happiness was in her hands. It was all in her hands. It always was.

/-/

Cedric sent the announcement to Columbine Peakes, and as soon as the owl flew out the window, his palms and fingertips began to tingle and his throat squeezed like a wrung rag. He couldn't take it back, now. He was engaged.

He didn't know what he was getting himself into, but there was certainly no getting out of it now.

Cedric smiled.

 **A/N: So, Blaise and Catherine make a business arrangement, Albus and Catherine plunge forward with his storytelling, and Harry and Catherine's progress might be sidelined by James's suspicions.**

 **Review Prompt: What do you think is going on with Sirius, and how will Catherine react?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Has anybody important died between Parts 3 and 4? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Great question! Nope, nobody's died in between. I try to keep y'all posted on deaths. At least, no one I can think of now. If I do bumble across someone I've forgotten, I'll humbly apologise and fix your perception in the author's notes.**

 **Cheers,**

 **C**


	9. Blood Bond

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! Enjoy!**

 **-C**

Gareth organized the entire home library on his day off work. He work as an Auror, but on his time off, he volunteered for his parents for Squib's rights. He was thinking of organizing his father's private library, which was always in disarray, but when he went in he saw his father there, sitting on the floor, clutching at his knees.

"Dad?" he said, scrambling to his father's side.

"M'fine," his father said quickly, brushing him away with a shaking hand.

"You're lying."

His father looked up, his wide and wild. Gareth had never seen his father like this before. He wondered what to do, and he thought of calling his mother, his aunts, his grandparents, Great Aunt Lily. Names and faces ran through his mind, but his father gripped his arm and said, "It's nothing. Really, Gareth. Nothing."

Before Gareth could insist, the front bell rang and Gareth's father let go of his arm, standing in a swift motion, brushing his robes.

"That'll be Kitty, I except," he muttered, more to himself than to Gareth.

Gareth knew he shouldn't, but as his father went down to greet Aunt Kitty, Gareth slipped into the cupboard. His curiosity had the better of him, and he wanted to be on hand if his father collapsed.

He was just doing a spell to help conceal himself when his father showed his aunt in, and she was almost as much of a mess as his father was.

"When was the last time you saw him?" she asked, shaking.

"I see him every week, or so," Gareth's father said, frowning.

"When was the last time he poured you tea?"

"He doesn't. We go out, and the order's always there when I arrive. Kitty, what is it?"

"Jason, I'm afraid."

"I know."

There was terrible significance in those words, significance Aunt Kitty seemed to understand. Her eyes widened and she said, "Oh, Jason, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I just can't stop shaking."

"It's not your fault."

"Damn it, yes it is. I should have thought…. Jason, I'm so afraid."

"What if he's not?"

"Is there something I can give you for the bond?"

"Nothing will help the natal bond that wouldn't cause other problems, Kitty. Help me to help you. That's the only thing we can do for me."

"I should talk to Aunt Lily, shouldn't I? And Severus."

"How bad was it?"

"He could barely hold the kettle, Jason. He wouldn't meet my eye. I think he knows."

"That's nothing," Gareth's father said firmly. "No, Kitty, listen, that's nothing. No proof of anything. If Mum hasn't said anything, if Aunt Lily hasn't noticed, then it's nothing. Just…keep an eye out. And for Merlin's sake, stop shaking or I'm not going to be able to work. Gareth's going to ask questions. He found me just before you arrived."

"He doesn't know?"

Gareth's father hesitated. Gareth wasn't going to let him off this easy. Whatever it was that had them both upset, this natal bond sounded like the real concern to Gareth. He was going to figure out what to do. Somehow.

/-/

Doria Lestrange had called ahead, told Kenrick she'd be in Dublin, and he insisted she drop by as she knew he would. He had a small dinner on when she came in, and he offered her choice of alcohol. She happily agreed to a glass of red wine.

"How's the circuit?" he asked.

She was a professional duelist, coached very graciously by Rhea Creevey. She had some promise, and certainly her share of aggression, but she didn't add up to the career Rhea Creevey had before she got pregnant with Jannah.

"I'll need to go to Brazil for their season this year if I've hope of retaining my ranking," Doria said, frowning. "Is this chicken?"

"Yeah," Kenrick said, rubbing his neck. "What happened in Japan?"

"Merlin, don't even ask. Hey, have you heard from Gareth lately? He never responds to my letters."

Kenrick grinned. Gareth had never been much of a writer, but Kenrick happily caught her up on Gareth's job as an Auror, and the work he'd done on the side with his parents.

"How's this Dublin rubbish going, then?" she asked, winking. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes catching on over here?"

Kenrick then began to regale her with all the tales of his work in Dublin, the ideas the Irish wizarding population had given him for new products, and the autonomy the Weasley clan had given for research and product development exclusive to the Dublin branch.

"If it's successful," he said eagerly, "they're going to carry on the method as they branch out."

"Branch out?" she asked, sticking her fork into the tender chunk of chicken.

"Well, yeah. They're looking at bleeding out onto the continent. Might see you in Germany someday."

She only wished she'd be able to keep her ranking high enough to be a regular in Germany.

/-/

Laura traced her fingers along Jason's back when they sat down in their bed that night. Jason couldn't stop shivering since she got home, and she knew it had to be from the natal bond, the way he kept telling her it was nothing. Gareth had given her a curious, heavy look when she came in the door, but she'd not had a moment to stop to ask her husband what was on his mind.

"Gareth said Kitty dropped by."

"Yeah."

"She's not well, is she?"

"No, it's not that," Jason said softly, and he shivered violently through the steady stream of little tremors wracking his body.

"Jason."

"It's nothing, Laura. It's nothing."

She had a feeling what he meant was that he wanted it to be nothing, that he needed it to be nothing. Whatever was bothering Kitty, it frightened him more than the natal bond, and she knew better than anyone that the bond terrified him. She curled her fingers over the curve of his shoulder and leaned in to kiss his neck. He relaxed minutely into her touch, but he did not say a word more than he had to.

Which told her he was more afraid than he'd been in six years.

/-/

In the dead of the morning, Jowan Prewett dropped by the Birmingham apothecary to make his deliveries, and he saw Aunt Kitty just as she was pulling on a scarf and rushing out the door. She was pale, looking through him as her eyes grazed past. They were already looking forward to wherever she was going. He asked the managers where it was she was going, and they told him with wide, almost guilty eyes that told him she'd been doing this a lot.

For a wild moment, he thought of following her. He'd grab her arm before she Disapparated to wherever she was headed, and he demand to know what was going on. He'd heard from Gareth that something was strange about her the day before when she'd dropped by impromptu to see Uncle Jason.

Jowan thought about telling his mother, hoping whatever it is could be uncovered by her, but she was always so terribly busy. What if it was all, somehow, nothing?

His stomach turned over on itself and he decided to leave it for a day or two, see if he couldn't find an excuse to meet her alone. Or perhaps put his head together with his cousin, or drop by to see Cynthia and ask if there was anything to be done from her end. She knew her mother better than he did. But after everything since Cecilia died….

His stomach turned over again and he took his leave, heading back to the greenhouses.

/-/

Catherine paced the sitting room and Dumbledore just spoke to her as she paced, as though she were sitting calmly and sipping tea like every time before. He was giving her the order of birth. The first Lestrange, the half-uncle she never knew, who died in Azkaban while she was a baby.

"And then, you know, Arthur Weasley," he said happily. "Well, Arthur was born first. But not long after the Lestrange pregnancy announcement."

"Pregnancy announcement?" she asked, absent. Her mind was on her father's trembling hands.

"They announced everything in those days, my dear," he said brightly. "Druella took pregnant not long after Rodolphus was born. Bellatrix. You know her name?"

Catherine hummed. Bellatrix Black, Aunt Cissy's eldest sister. Crazed. Loyal Death Eater. Torturer of her mother. The long-suspected killer of Voldemort, but really killed when she learned what Catherine's mother had done. Or, when she saw the result. Catherine was fuzzy on the details.

"Walburga had testing done around then. Orion as well."

"Testing?" Catherine asked, listening more closely now. Her hands were trembling, but she couldn't make them stop. She thought guiltily of her brother.

"Fertility, my dear," he said with a sad smile. "The issues in the Black family are known now, but they were not as known then. Walburga's womb was much as yours became, you know."

She did know. She nodded slowly. She understood the pressure to have children, especially if the other Black branch was pregnant. It would have been her grandmother's worth as a wife, her ability to birth Blacks. She obviously did it, because Catherine's father existed.

She thought of his trembling hands again, and Dumbledore invited her to sit, but she resumed pacing. He explained the fertility treatments of the day, more involved than what she'd undergone to have Cynthia and Cecilia, but not too far different.

She thought of Cecilia and closed her stinging eyes. She began to cry, and Dumbledore paused, saying nothing as she cried, and not resuming his story about the fertility treatments until she had composed herself again. Appeared to compose herself.

/-/

James said nothing as Lily left for work. He had some time to sleep. He closed his eyes, but he felt sick. Had Catherine gone to see her father yet? He wasn't sure, couldn't be sure. He thought of dropping by to see them again, but Harry might get suspicious.

He didn't know what Catherine would do, but he sure bloody hoped she would do the right thing. If she didn't….

He hated it was out of his hands. He hadn't had this much truly out of his hands since the war. Since then, there had always been some way of moving forward, some part he could play. But there was no part for him here. There was no role for him in this story. And this wasn't just his best friend, he was thinking about. This was his brother. The father of James's daughter-in-law. Godfather to James's son. His fellow grandfather to Cynthia, his sharer in the loss of Cecilia. They had shared everything so long, every loss and every joy, that he didn't know what he would do if Catherine didn't, couldn't, wouldn't do the right thing.

And even if she did, what then? Lily had been striving and struggling for fucking years now, and she'd done the same on the lycanthropy for decades before she had meaningful results in her hands. Remus had the time to wait, though.

Sirius might not.

James felt his throat tighten and he fought the urge to Floo to Brum, to check in on Catherine at work. The managers might whisper. He thought about checking in with Caroline, seeing if he could get her to prod Catherine in the right direction. Maybe Jason.

But chances were, James realized, Jason already knew. Jason must feel it if Catherine knew. He must have some awareness of her anxiety, her fears, her concerns. Even if he didn't know what it was all about, he knew.

James broke into his wife's office, checking the files, looking for preliminary notes that might give him some clue. Maybe there was something here that would say James was a fool, an idiot, that he was utterly wrong about the whole mess. He hoped, looked, searched, prayed.

But there were no ways out that he could find. Nothing he could find. He cried.

/-/

Sirius was in the garden when Jason came by, unannounced. His son's eyes were cold and searching, and Sirius knew it had to have something to do with impromptu visit he'd got from Catherine the day before. She'd asked him to make her tea, sweet as you pleased, and Sirius had tried to weasel out of it, but she followed him into the kitchen and asked in her way. Sirius had never been able to deny her anything.

Even when it was a matter of self-preservation.

"You're shaking," Sirius said to his son, feeling his chest tighten.

"She's frightened," Jason said softly.

The natal bond. The fucking natal bond. Sirius knew it would be his undoing.

"Which one?" Sirius asked lightly, too lightly. Jason's eyes narrowed. Always too much his mother, too clever and perceptive for his own good. His darling, wonderful son. Sirius's guilt was a mountain of rocks in his belly.

"Kitty's frightened, Dad."

Sirius closed his eyes. He wanted to tell the lie he'd been practicing for this moment. He wanted to say there was nothing for Catherine to fear, nothing for Jason to worry about. His throat seemed to close around the lies and his tongue expanded in his mouth.

After everything, he couldn't lie to his son, not about this.

"It might be nothing," Jason said slowly, "but you've not told anyone, have you? You've not even checked."

He'd not said anything to Lily or James, not gone to see Severus. He'd avoided Cara seeing, although she must see something was wrong. She always knew. That bloody wonderful woman he loved, she knew everything.

"You need to do something, Dad. Kitty's frightened."

He never wanted to frighten his little girl. But she wasn't a child anymore, Sirius thought, almost bitterly. He had blinked, it seemed, and she was in her forties, with a child of her own. He thought of Cecilia, and a small sob escaped his lips.

It wasn't just Catherine that was afraid. He looked in the mirror every morning and tried to shave with his shaking hands, and he felt the creep of death, marching toward him at that slow-steady march, looming with a taunting smile. It wasn't just Catherine who was afraid.

/-/

Jason poured the tea. His mother was out doing the shopping, his father said. Did she know?

"She knows in the way she knows anything," Jason's father said with a small smile. "The way she knows everything. You know how it is. She's such a blessing, your Mum. Best thing I ever did was marry that woman."

Jason licked his lips. He knew all this. He'd heard all this, in bits and pieces, but his father was babbling. He could smell the fear, hear it in the pace of his father's words, like the sickening tap-tap-tap of his father's fingers drumming on his thighs as Jason made their tea.

"Laura's that sort of woman, you know," his father said, smile bigger. "Well, of course you know. You married her. Just that sort of woman. Jason, does she know you're here?"

"I'm on lunch break," he said calmly. "She didn't ask."

She didn't ask, because she seemed to know. She always seemed to know. He understood precisely what his father meant about his mother, and about Laura. The two women were certainly of a kind, in the way his sisters never were.

"Truth is," his father said through shaky breaths, "truth is I don't know what the truth is, Jason. You're right. I've not done any tests."

"It might be nothing," Jason offered again, an olive branch he wanted to cling to, wanted everyone else to grasp like a lifeline.

"It's not nothing," his father said sharply. "It's not fucking nothing. I'm sorry," he added quickly, deflating. "I'm sorry, I should have…. Jason, even if I'm not…. Well, it can't be good, can it?"

Jason didn't know what to say. He laid out the tea.

/-/

Albus pressed his hand into Catherine's. She was disturbed by something, but not his story. She was greatly disturbed, so he had picked up the pace. Not sure whether he'd have time, or whether she'd have the patience for it to trail out as long as it should.

But there were no shortcuts, not really. He told her about the birth of Bellatrix, but she barely listened.

"It was after the Malfoy wedding," he said softly, "that I noticed the change."

"Change?" Catherine asked.

She was doing that, occasionally repeating a word as a question, to signify she was paying some attention. But she wasn't really looking at him. She was waiting for the end of the story, he knew. But it would not be that simple.

"You remind me very much of him, you know," he said, smiling to himself.

Too much of him, Albus thought. Too much of both of them.

"Him?" she said, listening fully now. "D'you mean her? Of Rohesia? That's what you've been angling at, isn't it?"

"You are like her in ways, yes," Albus said, trying to push himself up on the pillow now. "But I meant Alphard. If you were in his shoes at that age, what might you have done?" Catherine narrowed her eyes and shook her head, not seeing the point. "Alphard turned to women, of course, but he turned more ominously to drugs. Opium, if I remember correctly."

"Drugs," she whispered, a chill in her voice. Albus could see the ghosts of her mistakes glowing in her expressive brown eyes.

"He was well in the clutches, deeply by the death of your Great-Grandfather, Sirius. The man your father was named for. I do not angle at anything, my dear. But I do not tell you all these things for no reason at all."

She sat for the first time since she arrived quite early that morning. Her eyes were wide, and he had her full attention. But he did not speak.

"I'm running out of time," she said softly. "I need to know."

"I know," he said softly. Whatever her reasons, she did feel urgency. She needed her answers. "But I can only speed so much. Will you listen?"

"Yes," she choked out. "Yes, I'm listening. Alphard Black used drugs?"

"Yes," he said softly. "Sirius Black, the previous Sirius Black, died at seventy-five, and by his funeral I could see Alphard was already well in the clutches of the drug."

Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, but Albus pretended not to see. She was her father's daughter. Too much like Alphard. There were lessons learned long ago, and he would do his best to help her understand. If only he had enough time.

 **A/N: Jason's natal bond is a mess, Sirius is afraid, and Catherine learns her failings run deep in her family history.**

 **Review Prompt: Who will be the first to mention Sirius's condition to Lily?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Is there any chance Catherine can have a bad ending, or am I wasting my time, or are you trying to do some fairytale ending which wouldn't be believable? (Guest: hoping)**

 **A: I mean, I wouldn't say it's a particularly bad ending. But I'm not killing her off or anything. Your question leans toward the idea that she's lacking a kind of justice for her past. Remember: those mistakes she made were over twenty years ago. Who's not a bit of an idiot when they're making the child-to-adult transition? I don't want it to be a fairytale ending. She has consequences, for sure. It takes a lot for her to realize what she needs to do. She'll have to make some sacrifices. Things aren't just going to magically right themselves, but whether or not you find it believable when you come in dead set against her is partially out of my hands. This will be a relatively happy ending, but I can promise not everybody's storyline ends happily here, and I'm still undeciding about killing off a couple of my characters. I'm leaning towards not. If this doesn't fully clarify for you, please, feel free to ask a follow-up or clarifying question!**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	10. Burdens

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! Don't forget, fifteen reviews on any part of the series, you'll get bonuses on both in-progress sections!**

 **-C**

Remus poured the tea in his office, allowing Rose to fix her own, as she always did. She pulled out her notes, their preparations for an upcoming meeting with the Heads of Houses, to be followed by a general staff meeting.

"Aeson has a complaint," she said, flipping through.

"Aeson's always got a complaint," he said, smiling. "Was it about Xanthia?"

"Yes."

"It's always about Xanthia."

Rose grinned.

Sometimes, it was about Caroline's other children, but Xanthia was in the same year as Crispin, not only his child, but also in his House.

"I tell you what I'll do," he said, fed up with the absurdity and not looking forward to another year with this mess on his hands. "Tuesday, isn't it?"

"Hmm? It's Sunday."

"No, the sixth years have Aeson Tuesday after lunch?"

"Yes," she said, pulling out the chart of the class schedules. Remus had streamlined them considerably, but even so, it was a massive ugly mess, making it all work together with so many people and groups.

"Tell Aeson he'll have lunch with you and me that day. Don't say why. I'll call Crispin and Xanthia to my office. I'd appreciate if the children forced the adult to act like an adult. Next order of business."

"Filius wants a special dispensation to separate a dorm into two rooms, temporarily."

"The twins?"

"Hmm."

Remus rubbed his brow and groaned.

"Is every order of business about Sirius's descendants?"

Rose gave him a sympathetic smile before she glanced down the list and said, "No, James asked for Sunday off and was wondering if you would step in and cover his classes."

Remus groaned again. He hated forcing them into Sunday classes, but even with adding an after-dinner slot, it was still necessary for certain teachers, like James, to take weekend courses on. It was almost always older students, but he hated it.

"Sunday," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Hasn't he got his office hours on Sunday?"

"One hour," she said, flipping through to James's master schedule. "I think he would have asked for Saturday, but he's got two hours then, and the staff meeting. I expect he knew you'd say no to that."

"He's right," Remus sighed. "Look, I can take it. What is it, Ravenclaw fifth years?"

"Double Ravenclaw fifth years and the seventh years before lunch," she said, "taking out his post-lunch office hour. Fifth year Slytherins before dinner. Dueling Club after dinner, of course. A day off isn't unreasonable, after all. He's got such a packed schedule. And his son's birthday is coming up, isn't it?"

"Relatively soon," Remus said, not totally sure what month he was in, anymore. "You and Aeson don't need my help at the Dueling Club, surely?"

Rose grinned and winked, and then she said, "Now, surely you'd have more fun sticking your hand back into the club than going to a gala with the Minister."

She wasn't wrong, and Remus glanced at his diary, running his finger along the schedule for the coming Sunday. He didn't want to go to the gala.

"Oh, go on, then," he said with a grin. "Give me your notes. I'll be there."

/-/

Cedric peeled shredded lettuce off his sandwich as Draco sat beside him, unexpected, in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

Well, not the middle. It was a cordoned off area for Department Heads, to avoid their being pestered by people about petitions and such during their very short lunch breaks, should they choose to take them in the cafeteria. But still.

"Come down to mingle with the commoners, Minister?" Cedric teased.

"Congratulations on your engagement," Draco said dryly, sitting down. "You said you had a question for me."

"Yeah, our friends on the continent," Cedric said, setting aside another slice of lettuce. "Germany and France, in particular. They want to call in some favors."

"Favors for what?"

"Six years, Draco," Cedric said significantly, not wanting to mention Cynthia's name in public. Eyebrows had yet to be raised over her disappearance, and he wasn't about to change that, now. "They've been patient."

Draco's eyes flashed, and he asked what those people wanted.

"Madam Potter's efforts have drawn a great deal of international attention. They want aid in setting up Health departments in their own countries. Copying our best work, of course. Just the structure, not our research, obviously. I thought you might want to set up something with Madam Potter. I can never get ahold of her. The woman's busier than God."

"God?" Draco said, blinking. "When have you started using Muggle expressions?"

"Cormac used to say it," Cedric said with a frown. He thought of Cormac often since his attempted suicide. He should have thought of him before. "Regardless."

"I'll have a word with her," Draco said, narrowing his eyes. "Tell Adra congratulations from me, will you?"

"Tell her yourself," Cedric said, grinning as Draco's food was brought without him ordering. Perks of being the Minister of Magic, he supposed.

/-/

Rose showed up for the Dueling Club that evening about twenty minutes early, about ten minutes after dinner was cleared by the House-Elves. Zenia, one of Caroline and Damon's, had been a stellar Duelist the previous year, but went into the Auror training program instead of Rhea's path. And while Marly Prewett and Jemma Lestrange were excellent duelists, Melantha was easily the most promising current recruit. And her poor twin, while talented, was clearly less talented in this particular area.

"I hear our headmaster is joining us next week," Aeson said when she entered, grinning. James was rearranging the tables and setting up the stage. "Should be fun."

"You're not demoing with him."

"Why not?" Aeson said with a wink. "I owe him a hex. You know he's screwing my mother."

James snorted and Rose shook her head, and when James turned, he said, "He may not be a contagious lycanthrope anymore, Aeson, but I assure you, Remus Lupin is still not the one you want to make a fight with. And your mum's a big girl. If she wants to have a thing with Remus, I'd think that was her affair, wouldn't you?"

Rose gave Aeson a stern look, not nearly as good as his wife's stern look, but close enough to keep him in line. He might be family, but sometimes he was more trouble than he was worth.

/-/

Demelza did not think often on her childish crushes on people who went on to marry other people. Most days, she wouldn't have recalled she ever had a crush on Damon Prewett, even if someone came up and reminded her it existed.

Despite having a relationship with Dennis Creevey now, she wasn't really sure she called it a relationship, and many days she forgot about it altogether.

It had all the makings of something, of course. The sort of thing, she supposed, where a guy and a girl would go steady for a while, maybe eventually go out in non-Muggle public, maybe spend the nights at each other's flats. Eventually, they'd have four toothbrushes between them, two at each place, and sheets would pick up the scent of two instead of the scent of one. If a guy decides to propose, then he does, and if he doesn't then it falls apart and Demelza vows to wash her sheets more often and relinquishes a toothbrush, melting down the left-behind spare into a puddle of plastic to be Vanished.

She wasn't sure exactly where they were on the timeline of this sort of thing, but she knew they definitely weren't at the four-toothbrush stage. Somewhere before being seen together in non-Muggle public. He went to so many family events with his brother's in-laws, it was like he was married to an imaginary member of the Prewett family.

Probably beautiful, Demelza supposed. Somehow, they were all beautiful. She wasn't anything to sniff at, but imaginary women were undoubtedly more beautiful.

She asked Dennis, as they curled up on his sofa, whether he wanted to go to a park or something, have a picnic or something, maybe go to a café, and he said sure. She asked if he wanted to go to a variety of places, listed of dates and places where someone they knew might see them.

Testing the waters, she would have called it.

He thought about the dates and places and finally said, "None of those would work. I've got a thing with the Prewetts, then. But we'll do something."

Eventually, she supposed, she would melt his spare toothbrush. Probably. But they had to have four toothbrushes between them, first, and even that was seeming difficult. Maybe she was rushing things.

/-/

Brontes didn't laugh as his wife told him about his brother. It was hard to laugh at Aeson, most of the time. Instead, he traced a finger up her bare spine as she changed out of her robes, and she paused at his touch. He exhaled against her cool skin, letting her feel the warm moist breath before he pressed a kiss on the small of her back.

It wasn't long, mercifully, until she'd quite forgotten Aeson, and her complete attention was on him. The last thing he wanted was to hear all about the running of Hogwarts again. He wanted his wife.

/-/

Joceline Lestrange sat in her office in the wee hours of the morning, at the Godric's Hollow Branch of Potter & Whitby's Apothecaries. She liked her job, liked to brew, even liked the neighborhood she lived in. She had a flat above her shop, and although she could have afforded a nicer house, or had her family get her a fancy place, she appreciated the freedom of this flat, the normality of it. It was she and Jowan, one of her favorite cousins, who had suggested to Cynthia and Columbine they ought to get their own place. Joceline was glad Cynthia's father didn't know she'd had anything to do with it, as he was devastated, but she was pleased for the pair.

Freedom, Joceline thought, was a lovely thing.

/-/

James watched Lily undress and he breathed in and out as steadily as he could. Watching his wife undress was one of his favorite things, even this side of sixty.

"Remus said you're taking Sunday off," she said, not facing him.

He bit his lip. He was already thinking of ways he could convince Lily to take that day off, and maybe they could do a second honeymoon, something far away, and long as humanly possible. He had all kind of ideas about what he would do once they got away, but not about how he could get her to do it, so he dropped the idea.

"Things I need to do," he said, evasively. "Have you talked with Kitty lately?"

"Kitty?" she asked, pulling on a nightgown. "I'm sure you've talked with her since I last did. Why?"

He hummed, not wanting to show his hand. He'd hoped Catherine would be a bit more prompt, headlong about the thing, like her father would have done. Maybe he should have talked to Caroline first. Caroline was perhaps the truly impulsive one of those children, and she would have bullied her sister into action.

Of course, he'd been a bit worried about Caroline's impulsive reaction burning a whole on the earth where England had been, but he wasn't thinking about that as he traced shapes between his wife's shoulder blades.

"We should do something with them, soon."

"I'm busy Sunday."

"You're always busy," he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her body close to his. She relaxed into his hold, and James breathed in deeply. She had a wonderful floral scent. He wondered what they would do for Harry's upcoming birthday. "I want us to do picnics, like we used to."

"Narcissa wasn't dying then," Lily said with a sigh. "Kitty wasn't running the world's apothecaries. Cynthia was a little girl."

Cecilia was alive, she did not say, but the words lingered in the air. James just hummed. Everything was different then. That's why he wanted it back.

/-/

Cynthia showed the flat to Gareth first, taking him out to breakfast and then showing him the flat on her Monday off. He was impressed, asked when they would move in, and then rubbed his jaw repeatedly, obviously thinking about something else.

"How much does a place like this cost?" he asked, almost sheepishly, as he traced his fingers along the countertops.

"Depends on where you're getting it," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Why, are you thinking of moving out of Grimmauld Place? London's quite expensive, even in the wizarding world. Even in our terms."

"Coreen doesn't really care for London," he said sheepishly, and Cynthia squealed.

She kissed her cousin's blushing face and forced him into the nearest chair, making him relate all his thoughts and ideas about getting a place with Coreen. It wasn't an engagement, he said firmly, although she ignored this. Gareth was like his father, very old-fashioned and sweet and methodical. If he was talking moving in together, a proposal was sure to follow.

"You could always move in at the same building," Cynthia teased. "We could all do dinner together, take turns at each other's places. I mean, Coreen does dinner at home, right, not at the school?"

"Except for the feasts, yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "D'you reckon they've got an opening here? It does seem like a nice building."

Cynthia really didn't know, and she knew it would be quite a commute for both, but she liked the idea of having them around, and she knew it would be in their price range. Cynthia said she'd put him in touch with her estate agent, and she thought about having a little word with the superintendent, too, just to be on the safe side.

/-/

Nothing much resembling a gap existed in James's schedule, so Remus squeezed himself into the little Transfiguration classroom as the fifth year Gryffindors were leaving, and he gave Davena—Aeson and Ourania's youngest—a little wave before he closed and locked the door behind him. Jason was staring at a photograph on his desk and Remus narrowed his eyes.

"Same room Minerva taught us in, you know," James said, not looking up. "All those years ago."

"I recall you saying she never taught you a thing," Remus said with a wry smile. "That you and Sirius just came by it all naturally. Sirius loved that."

James exhaled heavily and stood, turning away from the photograph. "If it's about Sunday, Remus."

"No," Remus said. "No, I worry about you, James. You've got all contemplative in your old age."

"I think that's what happens, when the world catches up to us," James said, rubbing his eyes. "Thought it did all that years ago, you know. When everything happened with Harry and Kitty. And then we lost Celia. And then we almost lost Cyn. All this loss, Remus, it's wearing."

Remus nodded, supposing he was thinking about the Malfoys. In a strange way, they were part of James's extended family, because they were part of Catherine's extended family. James said he would see Remus at lunch, if that was all. Remus said he supposed it was, and he waited until James had left to cross to the other side of the desk.

The frame was actually divided and held two pictures. One was of the Marauders at school, one where Peter held the camera, so he wasn't in it. The other side was of Sirius holding newborn Catherine, and James holding baby Harry, who was reaching with curiosity for the younger child. Remus frowned at these photographs and wondered what the weight was on James's shoulders, and why he didn't feel he could share that burden.

/-/

Cedric sat with Cormac, smoothing the sheet a few times, frowning. He wondered what would drive a man to try to kill himself. He wondered this often, staring at Cormac's face. Especially a man with a good job, a sweet girlfriend (a string of them), and a long family legacy to boost his reputation. But then, Cedric had seen with the Blacks and the Potters how a family legacy could be a double-edged sword.

"You know," he said, as he saw Cho pass by the open door, "if you ever opened your eyes, I'd say you were milking this, prettiest Healer in the whole of England. You always did have an eye for that kind of thing." He scratched the end of his nose. "But then, I guess you don't have a way to appreciate it now. I've got work for you, lots of it, when you get back out. You will get out. I have faith that you will."

Cedric sighed, rubbing his jaw and smoothing the sheet again.

"You've got to get out, anyway. You need to be at my wedding. I haven't even had a chance to tell you, but I'm marrying, weirdly enough. Adrasteia Lestrange. Funny thing, that, isn't it? Too good for me, anyway." He sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You have to wake up, because you haven't even teased me for marrying Catherine Potter's cousin. Come to that, very few people have. I expect most of them have forgotten the hash I made of that whole thing, but you never would have. I made a hash of everything back then."

The sound of a throat clearing, and he looked up to see Cho narrowing her eyes at him, leaning in the doorway.

"Visiting hours are over, Mr. Diggory," she said tightly, and he nodded, collecting his hat from the table and standing. On his way past her, she said, "Congratulations, by the way. Your engagement."

She sounded sincere, so he thanked her, and he said he'd be back as soon as he could to check on Cormac's condition. She said nothing, but he glanced back and she was frowning at the invalid he'd just left. He wondered how much she'd heard, and what she was thinking of when he said he'd messed everything up.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia and Columbine have moved out, Cedric has a lot of weight on his shoulders, and James and Remus balance running a school with their personal lives and burdens.**

 **Review Prompt: Apart from the main plots centering around Catherine's search for answers and the illness of the Malfoy women, what's your favorite plotline thus far?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: What is Harry's career now? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Just to clarify, Harry's still a house-husband. With Cyn moved out, that might puzzle or worry some of you, but he's still got four dogs about, and he'll have his hands fuller soon enough, I promise. He's happy, anyway. By this time in his life, he'd have retired from Quidditch and he believes this would be where he would be, anyway.**

 **-C**


	11. A Thin Line

**A/N: Everybody thank Amy for earning the first bonus chapters for Parts 0 and 4! Want more bonus chapters? Review any part of the series! Give me at least three words, or it doesn't count.**

 **-C**

Catherine paced. She wanted to listen as Dumbledore as he told of Cygnus and Druella Black's second pregnancy announcement, of Alphard Black's first detox (Cygnus and Orion intervened and Rohesia nursed him back to health), and the birth of Aunt Andromeda.

"She was a very beautiful child," he said softly, thoughtfully. "Alphard was wrapped around her finger, and I think Bellatrix was jealous of that."

This, Catherine could understand, but still she paced. She felt guilt weighing on her shoulders, feeling she should be in three places at once.

"The pregnancy announcement was made in December of 1953," he said.

"Whose?"

"Walburga and Orion," he said, smiling a twisted, bitter smile.

"But, Daddy—"

"Not your father. Isabel Malfoy was announced pregnant shortly after, and on your uncle's fourth birthday, Walburga miscarried."

Catherine sat, horrified. She wondered whether it was a boy or a girl, an aunt or an uncle who never had a chance to live. She thought of Cecilia. Dumbledore told her how Orion took his wife to France to convalesce. She thought of her convalescence, and of Cynthia's. She thought of standing on the balcony, staring at the sea, and hearing Harry humming, feeling him watch her. Did Walburga blame Orion, or the other way around?

"Magnus Selwyn confided in me that he was tested in the summer for his fertility, and he was fine," Dumbledore said softly. "He was paranoid and wanted children very badly, but Rohesia was reluctant. I believe she used a contraceptive charm for the first part of their marriage, and was not eager to do the testing when it was suggested. Very much like you."

"I was tested," she said, not realizing how defensive she was until she heard her voice. A shiver ran down her spine. "I had to be tested."

"I imagine you didn't want to, though," he said, clearly needing no imagination at all. "Harry wanted a child. Your father wanted a child. You felt obligated."

Catherine wanted to tell him he was wrong, but he wasn't, and she knew better than to lie to Dumbledore. Harry had never made her feel it was her duty to have children, not like it had been in her grandparents' time, and he would have been mortified if he realized she consented to treatment and testing because she knew he wanted it so badly. If he'd suspected, she would have told him it was her father's desires. If her father had suspected, she would have said it was about Harry.

At the thought of her father she shivered again.

"Andromeda was barely a year old when Druella was announced pregnant again," he said, folding his hands.

"Aunt Cissy."

"Yes. I don't know that Cygnus was consciously trying for a son, but I do know he expected to eventually have one. Sometime after that, I believe, Walburga went on another round of fertility treatments and Aldise Lestrange came pregnant again."

Catherine paused, trying to think. For a long moment, he stared at her, as if expecting her to say which child this was, as she often did when he mentioned a pregnancy announcement. She couldn't think of her maths, and then slowly she said, "Uncle Rabastan?"

He probably nodded, but she didn't see. She slipped onto the floor, clutching her legs. She felt terribly small, guilty, like she'd done something awful. He asked what she was thinking, and she didn't know what to say, but she let words come out.

"I did something, didn't I?"

"What sort of something, Catherine?"

She shivered.

"I don't know," she said, wiping at wet spots on her face. "I don't know, but what if it's my fault? All if it seems to be my fault. Padma and Cynthia, Ginny's stuff. Ryana. Celia."

"Catherine, you need to be patient. But this guilt is misplaced. However you feel, at the end of these stories, I want you to understand this is not your fault."

She nodded, she wanted to believe. If it were so simple…

"With all the pregnancies," he continued, "Rohesia certainly would have felt both social and personal pressure to have children. Narcissa was born early, Spring of 1955. Andromeda was ever Alphard's favorite. And if my memory serves, around the time Rabastan was born, Rohesia was tested and determined to be perfectly fertile. The only thing keeping her from pregnancy was chance. It was at this point Randolph Lestrange dropped the pretense of interest in his wife and began pursuing Rohesia very openly, and quite apart from social custom. I didn't know much of this at the time, but Cygnus and Rohesia told me details later, him out of interest for his brother and her out of fear and guilt many years down the line."

Catherine knew where this was headed, and she felt mildly nauseated as he began to tell her about the behavior of Randolph Lestrange. Of course, everyone knew her mother was the child of two married purebloods outside their marriages, but somehow it seemed more vicious to know that Rohesia had been friends with Randolph's wife, that she was in love with someone else altogether. So many terrible things.

"And then something very interesting happened," he said, brightening, and she perked up. "A very wealthy old woman, Hepzibah Smith, was killed. Her house-elf was convicted for the crime."

"What?" she asked, confused and astonished. She had no idea what any of this had to do with her family history.

"Indeed," he said, almost amused. "It all seemed rather fishy to me at the time. Let me tell you about the trial."

/-/

Scorpius held his breath as he listened to Severus and Lily discussing his grandmother's condition. They didn't tell him much, so he'd resorted to skulking in corners when he knew Madam Potter would be about.

"The trouble is, Sev, I don't know what else to try. Doris has turned up some interesting genetic markers, but I can't begin to think how to target them, even if we have enough time to determine what they mean."

"You know who could."

They both seemed to hold their breath and Scorpius leaned forward, wondering what their faces looked like.

"I can't."

"She's not a child anymore, as much as she often acts like one."

"I think they're still having problems."

"Then it might solve things for them to face something other than their own problems. It's been too long since they were faced with something real."

"You don't really wish that on them, do you?"

Madam Potter's voice was tight, strained, and Scorpius realized she meant Catherine. His heart pounded so violently in his throat. Could Aunt Catherine save his grandmother? And if so, why wouldn't they ask her? Why hadn't she offered?

/-/

Sirius hurried through the lunchtime tea making, trying to be as quiet as possible so Cara couldn't hear the clattering of plates against each other and such. He hated to worry her, and he was afraid that if she started to show worry, then he'd have to look himself in the eye and be worried. And he couldn't afford to worry, not when he was so worried about his children and about his grandchildren and his cousin and Astoria.

He could worry about himself later. He could think about it later.

When he'd poured the tea and laid out the sandwiches, he used his wand to levitate everything out to the front room. He could have carried it, but he might have lost his grip. Best not invite chaos.

Cara didn't look as he entered, reading Catherine's latest article in _The Quibbler_.

"I really don't know how she does it," Cara said happily.

"What, writing?" he asked, sliding behind his wife and wrapping his arms about her waist. She leaned into him, letting him kiss the side of her head.

"Not that. She just…she can do all these amazing things. And where Caro does amazing things and I don't understand a word she says or writes, Kitty can take the most complex ideas and I come away feeling as thought I know what she knows. Maybe she missed her calling. Maybe she should have taken over for Severus."

"Potions Mistress?" he said, smirking. Severus would have loved that, but he also loved her celebrity as the premier apothecary in Europe. "Nah, Rose is just as good at the teaching side. She gets more creativity this way, and I think much more of a challenge. Besides, as lovely as our little girl is, Kitty doesn't have the patience."

"I used to think you didn't, once upon a time," Cara teased.

He inhaled her hair, grinning. He felt the muscles in his face twitch unbidden and his breath caught painfully in his chest. Sirius squeezed his eyes tightly shut and bit back a sob. If he could just have a little more time, just a little more normalcy, he would give almost anything. Just a little more time to try to put things right for Jason, to see Harry and Catherine happy like they were supposed to be, to see his grandchildren all graduated and at least a few of them married. He might like a couple of great-grandchildren, if it wasn't asking too much.

"I love you," he whispered into his wife's hair, hoping she didn't hear. He didn't want to worry her. But he needed to say it so much more often, as often as he could. He bit his lip and refused to believe, and yet in the pit of his stomach he knew his time was limited.

/-/

Caroline grinned as she pored over wedding catalogues with Adrasteia. The two cousins had never seen eye-to-eye, but both agreed Catherine probably shouldn't be directly involved in planning Cedric Diggory's wedding, and both sets of brothers would be next to useless.

"I don't want anything big, anyway," Adrasteia said quickly. "Nothing like Kitty's wedding. But…maybe a little more formal than Aeson's do."

Caroline snorted. If the bride and groom wore dress robes, it would be more formal than Aeson and Ourania's wedding. They'd received minimal input from Aunt Delia, who seemed to understand her daughter didn't want maternal input.

"Are you going to wear white or gold?" Caroline asked, fingering the corners of the catalogue pages. "Or something untraditional?"

"I'm tempted to wear silver," Adrasteia said, picking at her thumbnail, "but I'm concerned it might look too matronly. And I can't pull off emerald the way Kitty and you can. Anyway, green might be too Slytherin for someone marrying a Hufflepuff."

"Yellow, perhaps?" Caroline teased. "Black?"

Adrasteia balled up a bit of parchment and flicked it at her sniggering cousin. Caroline folded over the catalogue and passed the page to Adrasteia, who looked at the silvery dress in the center of the page. It was a pale silver, and with the neckline and hemline, no one would dare suggest that it was either matronly or juvenile.

Caroline knew it would have been far too racy for Adrasteia to have considered in their youth, but the woman had posed naked on her own book covers for years. She considered the dress with interest before saying, "Well, it's certainly a thought."

Although this wasn't strictly commitment, Caroline quickly jotted the details down in the little budget guideline she was keeping in a diary for her cousin. They weren't actually budgeting, but it was important to balance spending across all areas. At least, she knew it would be important to her cousin. And the not-commitment was as good as a confirmation from Adrasteia. That would be her wedding dress.

"How do you think your mother would feel about Uncle Sirius giving me away?" Adrasteia asked nervously. "Only, my father isn't around, and I don't really have anyone else, except maybe Jason or one of my brothers."

Caroline rolled her eyes and said, "I think she wouldn't care and he'd be insulted if you didn't ask. Let's get to important things. What are you doing about cake?"

/-/

Even distracted, Catherine had all the appearance of a good listener. It was an hereditary trait, Albus knew. He could be in a room with Sirius, the younger man suitably engaged, while Sirius's mind was truly a million miles away. Alphard had the same gift. Many purebloods attempted to cultivate it, and Rohesia had been decently inclined, but no one had a natural talent for it the way Alphard had, and it had passed to his nephew, and now to Sirius's daughter. A gift Albus recalled Cecilia being blessed with, before her unfortunate accident.

Sometimes, he thought, the universe felt like one cruel trick after another.

"Somewhere between Easter of 1956 and June, Rohesia discovered she was pregnant," Albus said softly, recalling how thrilled Magnus had been. "The announcement was made in June, officially."

"But that's not Mum," Catherine said, her full attention on him. A small shift in her posture and eyes, but otherwise she might have been listening the whole time. She'd more likely been trying to puzzle out why he'd told her about Hepzibah and what it had to do with her family, her history. "She'd be too old. And there weren't any other Selwyns. That's why Mum got Selwyn Manor."

He smiled although his chest ached and he asked if she was listening patiently or trying to skip to the end. Catherine caught herself, pursed her lips, and nodded. She squeezed her pursed lips around the teacup to keep from saying what she was truly thinking, which Albus was grateful for. She did have some breeding, despite her father's rebellious nature.

"Magnus was quite proud about the whole thing, and I think Rohesia was relieved in her way. They'd have the child, he'd dote, and for a while she could focus on her desires, until he started pestering her for a spare. The trouble was, on Valentine's Day of the following year, her son was born."

Catherine held her breath leaning forward. Her brow was tight, stressed. His words didn't seem to correspond with the event, and he finally let go of the final word, the explicatory word: "Stillborn."

In many ways, worse than a miscarriage. Albus had always thought this, and Catherine's eyes seemed to agree. To carry a child to term, nine long months of expectations and plans, and then for them to be gone in an instant after the labor and the sacrifice…. Albus had never been able to express to Rohesia how truly sorry he was, and after that loss, he knew it wouldn't have mattered. She was too numb to hear, and that was where the trouble really began.

"Just an aside, before we get into the complexities that followed the loss," he said softly, "this happened about when the trial wrapped up on Hepzibah Smith's death, and shortly after that, a young man I once taught named Tom Riddle disappeared."

The name seemed familiar to her, like something she'd heard in a fairy story as a child and half-forgot. Albus wished all monsters had such a fate.

/-/

Cedric rarely had dealings with Blaise Zabini, but Catherine assured him—in her all-too-persuasive way—this meeting was something worth his time. Not an interview, Zabini and Catherine had said. Business.

It was good to take time for business, really. With all the whirlwind with his sudden engagement and upcoming wedding, with the mess with Cormac's coma, Cedric felt he was gliding through his life without experiencing it, and business was the grounding component to remind him he was awake, alive, participatory.

"I'm expanding," Blaise Zabini said, cutting straight to it. "And I'm sure you know my network."

Cedric narrowed his eyes. He was not stupid; Blaise was not talking about his news network, but his personal one. Best friends since school with Draco Malfoy, Minister of Magic. Married to Catherine Potter's best friend and clearly close enough with Catherine to have her support in this endeavor. He'd bought up every wizarding news outlet in Britain worth sniffing at, and while it had its drawbacks in the free-enterprise matter, his friendliness with the Minister certainly had its uses when discretion was needed in the papers: and unfortunately frequent need in the realm of politics.

"And why do you need me?" Cedric said, pouring Blaise a glass of firewhiskey. He poured water for himself, and ignored the way Blaise's lips turned up at this.

"Because I'm expanding internationally, Mr. Diggory. And you know as well as I do of the sticky nature of international business expansion. I believe you aided Madam Potter in hers."

His jaw tightened. A few favors called in, and the notoriously difficult French wizarding bureaucracy was cut through, paving the way. To her credit, Catherine's name and personal property in France did half the work, but Cedric had been able to help her in a small way. Not that he considered her owing him favors: he'd have done it for her anyway. Not because he still loved her (that ship sailed many years gone), but because he had seen how lost she'd looked, even after Cynthia's life normalized. Perhaps she was still blaming herself, but she clearly felt (and Cedric secretly agreed) that focusing on work would help her figure out her life. She'd wanted to expand to France.

A few favors called in. Easiest thing in the world.

"I'm not saying I won't help you, Zabini," Cedric said, leaning back to watch the other man sip his whiskey, "but I hope you realize you're not Catherine Potter. It's not going to be as simple for you as it was for her."

"Diggory," Blaise said, setting down his glass, "that statement is true for every idiot in the wizarding world. So generalized, it's not even worth saying. If I hadn't realized my life won't come easy like hers does, by this point in life, I'd be a fool not worthy of running a cut-price shoe shop. You can't give me her name, but she can do that part. What I'm asking is for you to support my endeavors. Think how much easier your job will be, Mr. Diggory, if every major news source in Europe sang to my tune?"

Cedric couldn't argue with that, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him, it's not your tune, Cedric. It's Catherine's. She's the one pulling the strings, even if she doesn't see. She always is.

 **A/N: Catherine struggles between the need to do something and the need to know, Adra and Cedric's wedding is moving forward, and Blaise calls in his favors for further expansion.**

 **Review Prompt: Do you think Albus is giving her too much detail, or is he right not to just skip to the end?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Who would you cast for a 40-year-old Catherine? (Amy)**

 **A: Oh, boy. I don't love doing these things. Mostly because I change my mind on details so often. She's a person in my head. I don't really see her as someone else. For now, I guess, call her Catherine Zeta-Jones mixed with Anne Hathaway.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	12. Darkest Fears

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! Want more bonuses like earlier this week? Review, review, review!**

 **-C**

Shadow perked up as Mistress entered the house. It was late, and Master had fallen asleep on the sofa. Shadow was at his feet, and he whined to announce his presence as Mistress approached.

"Hello, you," she said brightly, softly. She kissed Shadow's snout. Her face smiled but her hands trembled and her voice was not right. "I expect he remembered to feed you, did he? Let's find out."

She sat on Master's lap, tracing fingers through his dark fur. Master hummed, and she slipped the glass bits from Master's face as he woke.

"Good morning, sunshine," she said, teasing, still not quite herself. Master perked up, his hands at her waist. Shadow watched as they kissed. Things were always better when Master and Mistress kissed, even though Shadow knew something was wrong.

"It's the middle of the night," Master groaned, pulling her closer.

"Close enough," she sighed. Her dark fur draped to cover their faces as they kissed. "Were you waiting up for me?"

"No, I was reading and I fell asleep."

"Reading what?"

"Mum's latest on the virus. I'm worried."

Mistress's body tensed and she sat back, using a hand to toss her hair back from her face. Her features were cold.

"We're all worried," she said slowly. "But she's got the best in the country working on the project. If there's anything to find, they will."

"Not all the best," he whispered, and Mistress stood, saying coolly that she was going to bed. Shadow whined, and Master sighed, taking Shadow to bed before joining Mistress.

Something, Shadow knew, was terribly wrong.

/-/

Severus ran the brush through Narcissa's silvery hair, feeling the smoothness of the locks as they danced across his skin. It was coarser than it had once been, but he kept up the pace of the motion, feeling her hair and smelling her hair and closing his eyes.

"I haven't seen my cousin's family lately," she said hoarsely. "Do you know how they are?"

Severus hummed, wondering how to explain the little he did know through Lily. He usually kept up with Catherine better than this, but she'd been distant lately, and he was hesitant to leave Narcissa's side. Scorpius might suggest Severus was afraid to leave in case Narcissa went in the night.

"Caroline received another award recently," he said.

Caroline was the easy one, in her adult life. Her magical core served to teach her responsibility, and her pack of children served to teach her balance, or perhaps the other way around. She would never be a lady like her mother, but in many ways, she'd grown up where her sister…her sister might never.

"You're thinking of Catherine," Narcissa whispered as his hand slowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing that isn't always wrong," he muttered. He thought of a cool, wet evening, standing with Delia on the lawn of Lestrange Manor. He thought of Catherine, thirteen and disoriented, still puzzled from her first experience with the Imperius Curse and swearing she didn't remember a thing. He thought of Bellatrix Lestrange, smirking as she locked away the memories of young Cara Selwyn, who wouldn't stop shaking as Rabastan held her in place.

It wasn't Catherine's fault, not really. She never had a chance to progress normally. Severus didn't have a place to blame her, because at the age when she sought solace in drugs, he sought solace in Dark Magic and becoming a Death Eater. Neither was good, neither truly faded. At least she had family who loved her, although in some ways her father's love served to cripple her.

And she and Harry were having problems again, Lily had said. They'd never had a smooth, normal relationship, but there had never been a doubt they were devoted to each other. Loving Harry was perhaps the one thing that kept Catherine sane in her darkest moments. But She had unanswered questions, questions that could never be answered, and Severus wasn't naïve enough to believe she was unchanged by the ordeal. But he could never tell her.

"Severus?"

He hummed, resuming the brushing, thinking now of Catherine at her birth, the smallest thing he'd ever seen. She was in her father's arms—the man wouldn't have relinquished her for the world. Severus remembered the small, jewel-like eyes staring up at him, her little hands reaching for his nose.

He set down the brush and paced to the window.

"You're worried about her," Narcissa whispered.

"I'm always worried about her," he said sourly. "She truly is her father's daughter."

"Then she'll be just fine," Narcissa said with a weak smile.

/-/

Catherine listened to the story of Rohesia Fawley, her grandmother, and felt sick as she heard Dumbledore tell her how Randolph Lestrange gave her less and less space after the stillborn child. Alphard was deep into drugs again, Rohesia was in mourning, and everything was a terrible mess.

"I believe it was 1958 when she first capitulated," Albus Dumbledore whispered. "It would have been Selwyn Manor for the June events, and he finally got what he wanted. Things changed very much from that time. Magnus's relationship with his wife was almost destroyed. He didn't want to touch her. Every woman turned on her, bar Isabel Malfoy, for breaking the unbreakable moral codes of her class. Only Alphard was willing to stand up to Randolph, but she didn't belong to him, either, and it did little good."

Catherine shivered. Her grandfather's great-uncle died, and Magnus did have a small fight with his wife's bully, but he backed down. Then her grandfather's uncle died.

"It was June when Walburga announced the pregnancy," Albus said thoughtfully. "She was already a good three months along. And your father was born on the…third of November?" She nodded. "Alphard was utterly smitten with him. Andromeda was six years old by this point, and I think he liked having a baby to spoil. Orion was prodigiously proud of his son.

"Rohesia and Orion took to minding the children at events. I expect he wanted to be nearer his son than his wife, and she certainly was trying to avoid Magnus and Randolph. She was very fond of your father. He was a very kind child. She tried to patch things up with her husband. They both tried."

He rubbed his jaw.

"And then in January," he said, "a little boy named Peter Pettigrew was born."

"Okay," she said slowly. She knew better by now than to ask why things and people were important. He'd assured her that everything was important that all the angles tied together.

"It was around then," he said, rubbing his jaw harder, "that Alphard turned to Rohesia again, begging for help with the drugs. I've often thought Sirius was the impetus. Between Andromeda being old enough to question him and Sirius's birth, I believe he truly felt he was ruining himself, wasting himself. She did help him." He hummed and smiled. "Severus was born that January as well. And Remus in March. And James. I think helping Alphard was good for her. Renewed vigor. She patched things with Magnus, and tried to avoid Randolph. She was very weak, however, and with everything that happened, she could count her friends on a hand.

"Walburga's second pregnancy was announced at Christmas, I believe," he said slowly. "Halloween? No, Christmas of 1960. They waited well into the pregnancy because she had already had the miscarriage. He was born in January, two months early. Regulus. Your uncle."

Catherine didn't know much about her father's brother, just that he was younger, a Slytherin, and that he died in the war. She learned a few things from history books.

"When Alphard was clean, Rohesia was home alone more often, and I do believe that is what did it," he said darkly. "Her pregnancy was announced at Grimmauld Place, actually. The Easter events, hosted by Orion and Walburga. I expect she was mortified. Everyone in the room knew it was Randolph's, and he did nothing to suggest otherwise. His eldest began Hogwarts that year. Slytherin. Rohesia told me years later, she'd thought of killing the child, but Alphard talked her out of it. He was very sentimental at the time. I believe your father started showing accidental magic around then."

"Two years old?" she asked, startled. "Isn't that a bit young?"

His lips curled and he said, "Catherine, my dear, your father never did anything by halves. I'm rather surprised he hadn't started sooner."

/-/

Scorpius came home midday, as he rarely did, and he slipped into his grandmother's bedroom to find her lazily reading a book.

"Hello," she said, not looking up.

He could move silently through any building in the wizarding or Muggle worlds, but he couldn't fool his grandmother, even frail as she was. He smiled. Probably the benefit of knowing so many spies and turncoats so many years.

"He adores you," Scorpius said softly, sitting at the foot of her bed. "And you've given up."

"I haven't given up," she said lazily. "I haven't got as far as this in my life without being pragmatic. You know about that. I'm fully aware he and Madam Potter's department might find a cure. I'm also aware that a dragon might snatch me out of this room in the middle of the night and deposit me in the middle of the ocean. I need to be prepared to go, and he needs to be prepared for it, too. That's not why you came in here."

"It's related," he said, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Why would Aunt Kitty not be helping with this?"

His grandmother's eyes flashed, her face more animated than he'd seen it in years. She sat up, with his help, and he waited for whatever she was thinking of.

"Catherine has suffered quite enough," she said hoarsely. "When she fails, it would destroy her. And she would fail, and Severus's hopes and your father's hopes would be on her shoulders. She cannot get involved, do you understand?"

He didn't, but he said he did.

/-/

Catherine seemed calmer than usual today, listening without many reminders. Albus was relieved, because his life felt more like a ticking clock every day.

"Rohesia went to labor at the Easter event," he said. "Your aunt would have just turned seven. It wasn't even a week later when Orion's great aunt died. Belvina Burke."

"How old?" Catherine asked, rubbing her jaw.

"Seventy-six. Bellatrix started at Hogwarts that year, Slytherin, of course. Rohesia's father hosted the Halloween event, and to hear Alphard tell it, your father had a soft spot for your mother even then. He was almost three. I don't recall if it was Halloween or Christmas of that year, but there's a favorite story of Sirius using accidental magic to summon a flower for your mother from the hall at an event. It made a stir, not simply for how young he was, but how powerful and directed the magic was.

"Things turned quickly, however. Rohesia wasn't the same after Cara was born. Ill, of a sort. And Randolph became annoyed Cara didn't have early signs of magic like Sirius. He wanted his child with the most powerful woman he knew to be the most powerful child in the room."

"She was just a baby," Catherine said, horrified.

"It never mattered," he said softly. "Sirius had only been a baby as well. By the time she was two, others had begun to pick and pry, notably Aldise Lestrange. Rohesia was afraid to bring Cara to see others, started hiding her away. Around the time Andromeda started Hogwarts, Magnus had Healers come around, hoping to assuage Rohesia's fears about Cara's magic. That was when they learned for certain."

"About her magical core?" Catherine asked. She looked as though she was in actual pain. Albus nodded. He would never forget the day Magnus Selwyn came to him, distressed. He told Catherine about it.

"He wanted to know her options," he said softly. "About school."

"But she couldn't go to Hogwarts," Catherine said, as though it were a foregone conclusion.

"Actually," Albus said, rubbing his tired eyes, "I said she could."

/-/

Cedric tossed the files down between himself, Madam Potter, and Draco. There were stacks upon stacks of bureaucracy in those files, and sometimes he really hated his job.

"Where do we even start?" he asked wearily. "France and Germany are a bit of a pain sometimes, but this isn't an unreasonable request."

"No, in fact, it's an essential one," Madam Potter said.

Cedric didn't know her well. He had come to know Severus Snape reasonably well, through the search for Cynthia Potter, but other than that, much of her generation was a mystery to him. They were heroes, the ones who made the world a safe, rational place, laid the groundwork for people like Cedric to grow up and have normal lies. And yet, sometimes he thought back to his time searching for Catherine and Harry's child and he wonders what they had to sacrifice, that generation, to make it all possible. Surely some sanity and peace of mind. Surely some of their own happiness.

"Do whatever you have to do," Draco said sternly. "As far as I'm concerned, you could just hand them that whole stack and tell them to contact with any questions. They have very clever people, and their pride might even keep them from pestering us too often."

Cedric rolled his eyes. Draco Malfoy could still be a prat, in private. When he saw Catherine often enough, she lessened his ego and kept him honest and polite for a while, but Cedric could tell they hadn't seen each other in a while. Both worked themselves too hard—not good for two people holding the wizarding world on their backs. Blaise Zabini was just like them, working himself too hard to keep the world grinding along.

"I have a very clever person in my department who should be able to streamline some of this for you," Madam Potter said thoughtfully, "but I'm afraid we're terribly busy. I can't make promises how long it will take her. Angelina Johnson-Weasley. Vaccination workload is down slightly, so she's the best choice. And she's endlessly efficient."

"She'd have to be, to keep up with that ridiculous husband of hers," Draco said dryly. "Now, if that's all, Cedric, I need to speak with Madam Potter privately."

Cedric took his leave in the usual way, but they were already speaking in low voices before he reached the door, and he could have sworn he heard something about Catherine as he slipped out of the Minister's office.

/-/

Laura held her brother-in-law's hand, squeezing it. He had been hesitant when he firecalled, but apparently Catherine was out late without explanation for the fourth night in a row. He didn't say it, but she knew he was worried. He'd checked her lab, checked her room, and even took a blood sample.

"It's clean," she said, and he sighed with relief to know his wife wasn't using any drugs. "You know Jason would have sensed if something were out of the ordinary."

Harry's eyebrows twitched and he nodded, but she squeezed his hand again. His mind went to the next-worst thing, she knew, and something Jason might not sense: an affair.

/-/

Zenia Prewett settled in the usual booth at the Birmingham pub, waiting for her best friends—and relatives—Mora and Oralie Lestrange. They were usually there before her, but she got off her training a bit early. She was in her first year of training to be an Auror, and it was exhausting.

They arrived already chattering. Oralie was listening to Mora's gossip from the philanthropy section. Oralie didn't strictly care about gossip, but the philanthropy section covered so many of their relatives, it was hard not to pay a little attention.

"What's up?" Oralie asked. "Uncle Jimmy giving you a hard time?"

Her uncle, Jimmy Peakes, was one of the Aurors in charge of the year's recruits and he did work her hard. Frank Longbottom was actually the Auror in charge of her specific development, but Uncle Jimmy liked to push her.

"No, just tired and sore from sparing," she said. "How's the Hogwarts library?"

"Oh, have I got gossip for you," Oralie said eagerly. "Coreen is apparently thinking of getting married." She sang the last word like it was a chorus. "She was reading about family structures, and you don't need to research family structures as a flying instructor. D'you think Gareth's proposed?"

They shrugged, and hissed the rest of their gossip. They weren't the most recognizable of their families, but the names they were passing back and forth were big enough to be recognized in a wizarding pub like this. If Gareth was proposing, he wouldn't want every wizard in England to know before Coreen did.

/-/

Shadow lifted his head as Mistress entered. Master was standing, stock-still, staring out at the pool without a flinch.

"Hey," Mistress said brightly. Could she not sense the trouble? Why was Mistress so cheerful and Master so…tense? Shadow sniffed at her fingers as she passed him, but she didn't scratch his head as she would usually do. Perhaps she did sense it. "Harry?"

"Where were you, Cat?"

"I told you, I'm having to work late a lot."

"Cat, where were you."

He turned, and he didn't seem like Master. His eyes were glistening, red, his face pale. Mistress took a small step back, and Shadow could hear her heart race.

"I…I was out," she said slowly.

"Who were you with?"

Her eyes widened, and Master snapped the question again, this time raising his voice.

"Harry, it's not that," she said urgently. "I've…I've just been having tea!"

"With who?" he snarled.

"Albus Dumbledore!"

This didn't seem to be the answer he expected, and he jerked his head back, his eyes darting back and forth across her face, searching for something. Shadow perked up, curious how this would end.

"Why?"

"He…he has things he needs to tell me, Harry. And then I have things I need to ask. I need…I need…" She began to shake, and Master softened, scooping her up in his arms before she collapsed. He held her against him, letting her wrap her arms around his neck. "Please, I need to do this."

"Then there's…nothing…. I mean, you haven't…?"

"I love you, Harry," she whispered. "I may not always be the smartest or whatever, but there is nothing and no one that matters more than you. But I don't feel right, I don't feel like myself, and I'm trying to fix it. Please. I need…. I need to fix it."

Shadow watched them cuddle and whisper, watched Master carry Mistress to the elevator. Shadow relaxed, laying on the floor, whimpering slightly. He'd been left in the house overnight before, and he certainly didn't mind, but it usually meant sleeping on the bed with Master and Mistress, curling up between them. Tonight, he had a strong sense he would not be welcome in the bed.

 **A/N: So, Narcissa and Severus don't want to call in the cavalry, Catherine's behavior draws suspicion from her husband, and Albus reveals that Cara could have gone to Hogwarts.**

 **Review Prompt: If Cara had actually gone to Hogwarts, which House d'you think she'd have been in? If I get five responses, I'll share the most popular, and I'll even tell you where she belonged.**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Was Sirius not tested for the virus when Sev gave out the test kits in Part 3? (Amy)**

 **A: Oh, Sirius was absolutely tested. The thing about illness is, you can always pick it up later. Remember, it's been six years since that test. He was clean then, doesn't mean he stayed clean. And because this is a retrovirus, it stays in the system a long time before it manifests any symptoms. He was well at the end of Part 3, but who's to say he's not got it now? How boring would I be if I left anyone safe—she asks with a maniacal grin.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	13. Steps Forward

**A/N: So, here's your regular weekly update! I just wrote this today, so I haven't had a chance to skim back over it. Apologies for any errors!**

 **-C**

Narcissa skimmed the drafted contract with tired eyes. She had seen far too many of these, over the years. She thought of the unhappiness it brought, of the happiness it set aside. She thought of watching her favorite uncle carefully and wondering if there was anything she could do to fix things. She recalled watching her other uncle and feeling rage and disgust at his weakness.

"It all appears to be in order, Scorpius," she said, passing her grandson the paperwork. "Have you discussed the matter with her father?"

"Contracts of of-age women go to the woman directly these days, not to the father," he said, almost relieved. Narcissa had known Blaise in his youth, and while he'd always been quiet, he'd been a shrewd boy. And she recalled him being particularly close with his wife. She could imagine such a man being impossible about the courtship and marriage of his daughter, his only child.

"Perhaps that is one change for the better," she said wearily. "Have you discussed it with Eveleen, then?"

"Erm, not yet," he said, smiling weakly. "I wanted it to be…a surprise."

Narcissa almost laughed, but she didn't have the required energy. She pushed herself up slightly on her pillows and said, "You cannot have a thing two ways, Scorpius."

He said nothing, but his cheeks went pink, the way his father's did, so she knew he understood. Contracts were not about surprise and romance. If a man wanted surprise and romance, he went about things differently. Sirius didn't do a contract, but then, she mused, the circumstances were quite horribly different.

"I see," she said, touching his hand, ignoring how small and weak and limp her hand was beside his. "I do understand, you know. The mess with contracts is a headache, but a necessary one in our world. But Eveleen is a modern woman. Do you know if she even wants one?"

Scorpius flushed brighter and she knew they hadn't discussed it. He stood abruptly, pacing her room. Draco had been easier this way: he and Astoria understood each other well, had been smitten with each other for some time. The contract was a logical step, and one neither of them would have argued with. The world had changed, and Scorpius wasn't his father, and the relationship with Eveleen Zabini had unfolded in quite a different way. She smiled to herself as she thought of how he'd expected to marry Cynthia Potter.

Yes, the world moved on in strange ways. Lucius would have made such a fuss of that. He would have come out of it looking an utter fool. It was her job, how, to ensure that her grandson did not take after his grandfather on matters of the heart.

"Talk to her first," Narcissa said with as much gentleness as she could muster. It was hard to tell the difference in her register these days, so subdued was all her speech. "If she is interested, she will say so. It may be that she wants nothing to do with contracts. Wouldn't you rather know?"

"Yes" he said softly. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Can I get you anything? I know it must be terribly dull in here. Are you sure you wouldn't like to go to the parlor, take tea with my mother?"

She certainly would like it, but she knew it was a poor plan. In her bed, she managed to have some measure of dignity. She could do more than was expected for someone confined to her bed, but she would only make a fool of herself with how little she could accomplish if she tried to leave her room and do normal things like taking tea.

"How about you bring me a book," she said, smiling.

Severus had set up a little reading station she could put over her lap, so all she had to do was turn the pages as needed. Very little physical exertion required.

"What sort of thing?" he said, kissing her brow.

Such a sweet boy. He was always such a sweet, sweet boy. She smiled and thought of Draco at his age, but then she thought of Catherine's troubles at their age, and her smile fell slightly.

"Whatever you think looks most interesting," she said softly, relaxing. She knew he would set the book up for her on the reading station without her asking. He was a terribly thoughtful boy. When he left to find her something to read, she squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could, feeling her pulse throbbing in her throat.

She wanted to see her cousin. More than anything else right now, she wanted to see Sirius's face, to know he was well and happy, that all the sacrifices they'd made were worthwhile. She had something she wanted to ask him, but she couldn't imagine how she could lure him here. He had things to do, and he might bring Cara, and as much as Narcissa hated herself for it, she had pride to consider. Sirius seeing her like this was one thing, but for Cara to see her this way, when she by all accounts still looked beautiful and quite young for her age….

Scorpius came back with a book in hand and Narcissa tried to brighten her countenance. She didn't want him to worry any more than was natural and necessary. The book was a history of the use of tea in potions, and one of her favorite ones to read. Severus hated it, which was most of the appeal.

"Thought you might like to try this one again," Scorpius said cheerfully, but without the false cheerfulness used with the dying. He was only ever sincere.

/-/

Demelza wanted to organize something with Dennis, a proper date for once, but as soon as she suggested a date and time, he said no, he had something to do with his brother's in-laws.

"Again with the Prewetts?" she snapped. "You must be joking."

He couldn't seem to understand why she was upset. He didn't seem to see how frustrating it was to be with someone who wouldn't just be with her. It was worse that there wasn't another woman somewhere to throw things at. She wanted to be furious with him, to break things and maybe even curse someone. But unless she threw his things and broke his things and cursed him, there was no sensible way to approach the matter. And really, there wasn't enough of his things at her place to make the exercise profitable.

"I don't know what the big deal is," he said, shrugging. "They're family."

"And when are you going to tell your family about us?" she snapped.

His eyes widened as if such a thought never occurred to him. Had he really thought they could just keep on the way they were, without any changes in the relationship? Did he really think she would be content to keep going this way?

Perhaps this was her fault, she mused as he floundered for a satisfactory response. Perhaps she wasn't clear enough up-front with her expectations. But they'd had fun together, and the snogging was pleasant and the sex was nice. It hadn't occurred to her that they weren't on at least roughly the same page. Same part of the book, anyway.

Now, she wasn't sure they'd been in the same book in the first place.

"Can't we just talk about this later?"

Those words were biting, and Demelza wanted to throw something all over again. She rubbed at her throat and fought the urge. She could be composed.

/-/

Columbine poured the tea as rain pelted the windows of Potter Manor. It was their usual Sunday brunch time, and Mrs. Potter was just coming in from somewhere else. She seemed flustered, but she said nothing about whatever she was coming from. Instead, she greeted both Columbine and Cynthia eagerly, as she always did since they moved out. Then she wrapped her arms around her husband's waist as he cooked and he turned his head briefly to kiss her. Columbine tried not to giggle.

"I'd give you more attention, love, but the bacon would likely pop and splatter grease on my face," he said, only half-teasing, and instead of letting go, Columbine raised her eyebrows as Mrs. Potter pressed her face against his back as he worked.

Cynthia gave an update on how things were at the flat, and her parents asked a few questions here and there, but largely it wasn't so much a conversation as a monologue.

Things were good at the flat. It was nice to have something that was their own, and Columbine appreciated living so near Mr. and Madam Black that they could have tea there every few days. Cynthia's extended family was definitely a good one for being in-laws.

"We've been looking into Muggle methods of marriage," Cynthia said casually, as though such things were casual things.

Her mother's head jerked up, eyes wide, and Columbine fought the urge to sink into her chair.

"Marriage?" Mrs. Potter said, startled. "As in, you two? I…. How does that work in our society?"

/-/

Damon tried not to notice. He really, really did try. He wasn't even sure Dennis had noticed, or anyone else in the family. But it happened every time there was a family even these days, particularly at his and Caroline's home. Damon's uncle Gideon would have a quiet conversation with Dennis Creevey, and Dennis, naïve and pleasant and friendly, would engage in the conversation. Damon had seen the development: quiet discussions to light touches to breaking him away to other parts of the house.

Only a matter of time, Damon supposed, trying so hard not to notice.

/-/

Valary Prewett sat on the window stoop in Gryffindor common room, trying to do her assignment on curses. She truly hated essays. Her cousin, Davena Lestrange, and her sister, Sorrel, sat on either side of her, each doing their different levels of Transfiguration assignments.

"Have you thought," she said slowly, "about putting a prank over on Professor Potter?"

"Even I'm not that suicidal," Davena said sternly. "But if you are interested in it, talk to Melantha. She might not be interested in helping you out, but she can give you a tip or two on not getting caught."

Valary and Sorrel sat up straighter at this. Their sister was a prefect now, and a very good student. But did this mean she'd actually pulled off a prank on Professor Potter, of all things? Or did he let her get away with it because she's family?

/-/

Cora watched her uncle lean in to say something to Dennis, who nodded lazily. It wasn't the way other people spoke at these family events. She'd asked Uncle Gideon once why he and Dennis kept sneaking off at family events, and Gideon very casually said it was because neither of them liked all the noise and the crowds.

He was a very good liar, practiced from so many years of having to lie through his teeth. But she didn't believe him. She knew him better. Dennis might believe that was what it was about, but Cora had long suspected there was something else on her uncle's mind. She caught her brother's eye as Gideon led Dennis out of the room, and Damon seemed to see what she saw.

If nothing had happened yet, she had a feeling it would happen soon. She just wondered whether Dennis really understood what was already happening. He seemed so utterly oblivious and naïve. He always had. Was he truly that naïve, or was there something else going on?

She slipped across the room and touched her brother's arm.

"Should I go after them?" she asked softly.

"Not for now," he said darkly. "Maybe later, if they don't come back. It's not like Dennis is a child. He doesn't even act like one most days, anymore."

She hummed, but that didn't make her feel any better about it.

/-/

Sadie scuttled through to the dining room where Master, Mistress, their pup, and their pup's mate were eating at the large table. She placed her head on Mistress's lap and was pleased not to be pushed away.

"It's technically legal," the pup was saying. "It's just…socially complicated. But I think the only way any social complications have been overcome in our society is through ignoring them, isn't it? That's what Grandad always says."

Mistress hummed, a potentially approving and potentially thoughtful hum. Her fingers scratched behind Sadie's ears perfectly.

/-/

Demelza thought about waiting up for Dennis to get back. She actually tried to do it, sitting up at his place. She had a key. She'd thought that was progress. Now she wasn't quite sure. She slipped the key onto the counter, looking at the thing, trying to divine what he meant by it.

Every time there was something to do with the Prewetts, he was away like a flash. He didn't seem to even be aware he was doing it. Was he doing it? Was she making excuses not to get to close to him? Was he actually being perfectly reasonable to go to things with extended family, and she was just being a bitch so when the inevitable happened she wouldn't feel so upset?

No, that didn't seem right, she mused, flipping the key over.

It wouldn't take long to pack her things, she supposed. Not long at all.

/-/

Columbine tried to be an especially good guest. She knew the news was striking, even shocking, to Cynthia's parents. She couldn't imagine how it would be to tell her own family, who were less forward-thinking than Cynthia's.

Worse, she had a feeling the news had put Mrs. Potter into a bit of a black mood, her hand twitching away from her husband's when he reached out to take it. His smile tightened further, and Columbine felt terribly guilty.

"Whatever you decide, we'll support," Mr. Potter said earnestly. "But please don't believe it will be easy. These things never are."

"We know," Cynthia said softly. "But I really think we have some positives to draw on in change lately. I truly believe we can weather this, and Colly agrees." Columbine did agree, but she didn't want to upset anyone, either. "As much as I hate to say it, Dad, there are some positives to having the press in one's pocket."

Her mother's lips twitched, and Columbine felt her stomach flip. It was the one promise they'd made each other, that they wouldn't use Cynthia's name or contacts to influence the way their lives unfolded. They'd seen, six years gone, just how brutally such power could be wielded in their world, just how much it could cover up.

"Again," Mrs. Potter said softly, "whatever you decide, we'll support. In whatever way you wish."

Columbine swallowed back bile.

/-/

Damon was going through the corridor, toward his study, and he paused at the sound of voices. He held his breath, glancing through to the library, where Dennis and Gideon were sitting too close together. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Dennis seemed upset about something and Gideon comforted him.

/-/

Valary and Sorrel slipped out of their common room, something Sorrel had clearly never done, as she was holding her breath the whole way. Tresha and Xanthia were still in the Gryffindor Tower—Tresha was certainly too young and Xanthia made it clear she wanted no part in the matter. Marly picked the meeting place: well centered between the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor common rooms, on the fourth floor.

"This had better be good," Melantha sniffed. "Between my need for beauty sleep and the mess of homework they throw at you fifth year, I barely have time for my prefect duties."

Valary was pretty sure something was backward about that sentence, but she ignored it.

"You've pranked Uncle James?"

"Well, of course," Melesina said with a grin. "Hasn't everyone?"

"We need to do it again," Marly said firmly. "We've got a Prewett in every year. It's the last chance that can happen. So, we need you two to take the lead."

"We're missing some Prewetts," Melantha said, frowning around as if taking stock."

"Do your best," Valary said. "We'll fill in the others at a less dangerous time for their no-detention records."

/-/

Colin walked with Dennis after the gathering, and Dennis seemed to have a lot weighing on his mind. Dennis was never a fully open book—he was the life of the party to keep from talking about himself—but lately he seemed to be especially secretive. Colin never pressed, never pushed, but Rhea's uncle got a lot more out of him than anyone else managed to, these days. And Colin couldn't figure why. Maybe it was that bachelorhood thing. Maybe that gave them a language no one else could speak.

"I have a bit of a puzzle for you," Dennis said as they walked. "If something is a secret, and the secret is going well and it doesn't interfere with your life, do you have to share it?"

"Erm…"

Colin really wasn't sure what the question was, so he tried to buy himself time.

"Never mind," Dennis said sharply. "If the secret causes more trouble than it's worth, of course there's no point sharing it."

"I thought you said it was going well and not interfering with your life?" Colin repeated slowly.

"It was," Dennis grumbled. "It isn't anymore. Tea with you and Rhea on Tuesday?"

"Oh, sure," Colin said, and before he could say another word, his brother took a few quick steps forward and Disapparated.

"What was that all about?" Rhea asked, catching up after a chat with Cora.

"I've no bloody clue. You're lucky all your siblings are normal."

Rhea snorted, glancing back over her shoulder to where Caroline and Damon were snogging like schoolchildren.

"Colin, dear, no one has ever accused Ourania of normal, and Cora and Damon are tainted by association."

 **A/N: So, Scorpius gets love advice from his grandmother, Colly and Cyn consider marriage, and Demelza and Dennis are on the rocks…but is it entirely down to their own personal failings?**

 **Review Prompt: What d'you think is going on with Dennis Creevey right now?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Lily start to become suspicious of Kitty's constant absences from home, or will she remain more or less unaware as she doesn't often visit at Potter Manor? (Amy)**

 **A: Mostly unaware. Harry only occasionally admits what's going on when he thinks there's a problem, and Lily's a dreadfully busy woman. And now that Kitty's half-confessed what she's up to, Harry's more likely not to mention it.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	14. The Threshold

**A/N: Sorry for the late chapter! It's even later than I said in Part 0, but between daily life and family drama, I've been a bit drained. Please forgive me. I'll redouble my efforts to be on-time this week!**

 **-C**

Fabian Prewett poured his twin a glass of wine and tried to say nothing. He told himself saying nothing was easier, especially now he was his brother's boss. There was nothing good about trying to be the noble one all the time, as Gideon had found. They judged each other, perhaps too quickly. Back and forth throughout the year. Checks and balances.

"Do I have to tell you you're playing with fire?" he finally said.

"Can't help it," Gideon lied.

Fabian knew perfectly well his brother knew better, and could behave better, but perhaps he was too tired to want to. Dennis Creevey was no longer a child, but he was still naïve in so many ways. Did Dennis realize what Gideon was up to? Did Gideon fully realize until recently?

"Just remember," Fabian said, "he's part of the family. You burn that bridge, you don't get to drive another direction."

Gideon's jaw twitched, but he said nothing, downing his wine in one and gesturing for another glass. Fabian hesitated, but he did as the gesture suggested. They weren't children anymore, he reminded himself. He didn't know why he had to keep reminding himself.

"Dorcas busy tomorrow?" Gideon asked.

"Dorcas is always busy," Fabian said, brightening. He loved his wife dearly, but she was almost as busy as Lily. "It's part of why I love her. Rhea inherited her work ethic."

Gideon hummed, sipping the second drink. The two brothers could say much to each other without saying a word. People said it was a twin thing. Fabian knew it was more proximity. Their lives had followed parallel paths for a long time, from being Sorted together to being brought into the department together to joining the Order together to getting sucked into Sirius Black's drama together.

But family, that was where their paths diverged, and Fabian didn't know how to help his twin on those terms.

/-/

Natalie Whitby worked mainly with Fred Weasley on matters concerning Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She knew the board, and well, through her longstanding friendship with the Blacks and their set, but Fred was the one who knew every piece and knew how to speak her language. Ron was too brash—told her about things that hadn't been agreed yet—and George and Kelda clamped down on information it wouldn't hurt to share, on principle. Fred was the pressure point, and the logical contact.

"A whole branch just for mail orders?" she said, as Fred motioned for another drink for her. They were meeting at their usual Muggle bar, crowded enough not to be noticed and enough out of their world not to risk corporate espionage. And near enough Diagon Alley to be walking distance from both their offices.

"We already have Megan Jones managing the mail orders," he said, "and some general employees get shifted onto them wherever they're working. But it's our biggest income, and if we're smart about it, we can run the mail orders from a central warehouse, and do development and shipping to other branches from there."

"Central," she said slyly. "Would that be near Brum, or Godric's Hollow?"

"Don't be cheeky," he said with a wink. "I'll give you more when it's worth hearing. Now your end. What's Damon brought you on the competitors in France?"

Natalie smiled and passed him an envelope—copies of all Damon's research on a joke business in France threatening the health of their Paris branch, and expansion opportunities within the country. Damon knew she was passing it on, and had curated it accordingly for an upcoming article, but Fred didn't need to know.

/-/

Demelza was sitting up in her flat with a steaming cup of tea when Dennis came around, and neither had to say what was happening. He promised to send her things along by Floo. She told him not to bother. He insisted because he was a thoroughly decent bloke, but she never left things at a man's place she would mind parting with when it came to melting toothbrushes.

She would miss that part, she mused, as he collected his things.

"Don't be a stranger," she said, watching him check his rucksack to see if he'd forgotten anything. "The assam is yours."

"Right," he muttered, opening the kitchen cabinet and taking his box of tea. She wouldn't have said anything, but she wouldn't drink the stuff, and it was always a shame when tea went to waste. "I'll write, see what you're doing. If that's alright?"

"Perfectly fine by me," she said.

She should have felt something as he left, but apart from her shoulders relaxing, she felt nothing but steam tickling her nose.

Inevitable, perhaps. They were too busy, he was too secretive, their attentions were split in other directions. Still, she ought to go out to a bar and go fishing.

She thought she would put it off for a day, maybe go to a different bar, try something new. Demelza was not afraid of new, but of the old. She was afraid of getting too comfortable, of leaving things that mattered at a bloke's place, of expecting not to melt the toothbrushes and then finding herself the only one thinking on those lines.

She was not aware of her fears, not consciously. Instead, she blew lazily across her tea and thought of which bar she might try, what sort of people she might meet, and what she would look for in particular. She was tired of looking for someone nice, because they always seemed tied at someone else's fingertips. Damon Prewett was attached at the hip to Caroline from word go, and whoever had a hold on Dennis had him held very well, so tightly wrapped he couldn't even see.

No, she thought, leaning her head back. She would try something very, very different this time. She would keep her mind open, not look for the usual cues, try a very different bar in a different part of the country. It was time to shake things up.

/-/

Columbine came home early from work to find Gareth pacing in her flat. Cynthia wasn't home from work yet, so he must have used his spare key.

"Something wrong?" she asked, taking off her scarf.

"Oh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "N-No. D'you know when Cyn's getting back in?"

"She won't be back for a couple of hours yet. Something I can help with?"

Gareth's face was usually a closed book, something he got from his father, but today he had a whole range of emotions shifting back and forth across it. He seemed to chew on her question for a long time before he finally gave a sharp nod and said, "It's better I speak to you, anyway."

Sensing this would be a long discussion, Columbine suggested they have a seat, a cup of tea, some biscuits. She had some ginger snaps in the cupboard a neighbor brought around neither woman wanted to eat, and tossing them off on Gareth seemed appropriate.

He rubbed the heel of his hand on the edge of the table, and after a long silence filled with the crunch of biscuit-eating and the slurp of tea-sipping, he set down his cup and spoke.

"Has your sister talked to you about switching jobs?"

Columbine hesitated. Coreen had gone out of her way not to mention her Quidditch career, her injury, but Columbine knew there was a misconception in her sister's head that Remus Lupin offered the post at Hogwarts out of pity. He'd offered it because the previous post's owner retired on short notice and left him scrambling for someone qualified, but Coreen had been so down after her injury, and she hadn't seemed to really recover yet, emotionally.

"I think she resents how busy I am," Gareth said softly. "And it's not like she's just jealous for my time. I could deal with that. I'd know what to say. But I think it's because she's still so sore about her injury, and I don't…I don't know what to say to that, Colly."

It was a tricky one, because Colly didn't know what to say, either. She'd struggled with that question relentlessly since the injury.

"All you can do is be there," Columbine said. "And remind her as often as you can that you love her. Have you thought of maybe taking on less at your parents' place? Being an Auror already takes a lot of time."

Gareth hummed. He seemed loath to let go of the philanthropy work, but he did say it was something to think about. But would he?

/-/

Damon sat with Caroline, trying to focus on her line of conversation, but when he couldn't answer the question he didn't hear her pose, she snapped, "What's on your mind and why isn't it me?"

He smiled despite his best efforts and then said, "I'm worried about Dennis."

She pursed her lips and then said, "Dennis might often act like a child, but he's a big boy. If he finds himself playing with fire, it's not for you or me to judge."

Of course, she would judge, but he understood her point. They couldn't make his choices, just as they weren't responsible anymore for Jowan, Isebella, or Zenia's choices. They were adults.

/-/

As a Gryffindor, it was among Valary's responsibilities to keep an eye on Uncle James, learn his schedule, and determine the weak points. It was a two-week job while the others prepared: one to determine the schedule and the second to confirm there were no mistakes.

As she crept along toward the Great Hall a few doors behind him, checking around every corner to make sure she didn't get noticed following him, she went to round the corner when she heard Uncle James say happily to Uncle Remus: "Oh, are you coming around for tea on Saturday?"

"Yes, if Lily's still not too busy with her work?" Uncle Remus responded.

"It's good for her to take time out."

Valary bit her lip. Saturday was an opportunity, but how far they'd press it was another matter.

/-/

Dennis didn't know what he expected when he showed up at Gideon Prewett's place after leaving Demelza, after dropping his things home. Comfort, perhaps. A drink. Gideon provided those things, and said he could stay over if he wanted, could use the spare room.

Of course, Dennis could have Flooed home, but it seemed rude when Gideon had made the offer, so he stayed. They were up talking, drinking, discussing the relationship Dennis had only told Gideon about.

"Why haven't you ever married?" Dennis asked after far too much whiskey.

"Hmm? Me?" Gideon said with a smirk. "I'm not the marrying type. Not everyone is, you know. Maybe you're not, either."

"My friends are all married," Dennis sighed. He leaned his head against the sofa. "They're all so happy. I want to be that happy."

"I'm not married," Gideon said. He was almost playful about it. "Does that mean I'm not your friend?"

"Meant my friends from school."

Gideon hummed, flicking a stray curl from Dennis's face. It felt nice, having someone else move his hair. His mother used to comb it for him as a child, and it always created a pleasant tingling across the scalp. This was like that too, but somehow extra.

"I think you're doing too much thinking," Gideon said with a grin. "Why don't you go to the guest room and I'll see you at breakfast, eh?"

"Breakfast," Dennis mumbled tiredly. There was something he wanted to add to that, but Gideon gave him a stern look and Dennis complied, going to the guest bedroom and pulling off his clothes. He didn't have pajamas, so he thought it would probably be fine to sleep in his underwear. Not like anyone would know, anyway.

He struggled to sleep, but he rolled over, opening the bedside table just out of curiosity, the way he did in hotel rooms. There was an unlabeled bottle of something that looked like gel, and he wondered what it was. He opened it, sniffing it, but it just had a fresh, clean sort of smell. He put a little on his finger and was amazed at how warm it was to the touch. He hummed, barely noticing through his sleepiness that he was becoming aroused as he worked the gel between his fingers. His mind didn't correlate the two things, but when he did find he was aroused he absently moved his hand to take care of it, and gasped at how good it felt against his most sensitive skin. Dennis leaned his head back, vaguely aware that it was the mysterious gel that felt so good, vaguely curious about using more but too tired to try.

Besides, he thought. He was a guest. That would be a bridge too far. But it didn't stop him from manually climaxing, biting his lip hard to keep from letting Gideon know.

/-/

Fred spread _The Daily Prophet_ across his knees, his eyes already searching for patterns, considering options. He had a business mind—as did George—and he could see the way the wind was blowing. Between Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Zabini News Corporation, and Potter  & Whitby's Apothecaries, their friends and family were collecting and expanding in all the critical sectors of society: news, health, and entertainment.

"Books," he muttered, rubbing his jaw. "Quidditch."

Of course, his niece, Eveleen, was a high-powered novelist, and _Witch Weekly_ had a certain segment of the literary market nailed down. It wasn't ideal, but it was a start.

Quidditch, that was trickier. Coreen had great potential, as had Ginny, but the injury was a final straw. Controlling the fate of Hogwarts Quidditch and the reporting of Quidditch were not quite the same.

Then a very attractive idea hit him, and he pulled out a piece of parchment, quickly addressing a letter to Catherine Potter, something he only did when necessary. He scrawled out a quick letter, not giving away his whole point, but stressing that it was not only a business opportunity, but also a PR decision and something that might be a boon in her marriage, if she would just write him back and agree to give him a sliver of her time—it wouldn't take much.

He read it over to check for loopholes before sending it. If he knew Catherine at all, and he prided himself in knowing her fairly well, she wouldn't be able to resist this suggestion, and would give him time, enough time to make a case.

He'd still have to give the malarkey about books some thought, but there were other, more complicated puzzles to work with for now. Like how to water down the love potion to make it acceptable for use by children. Crushes were cute. Obsessions and children molesting each other way less cute.

Fred put away the paper for now, determined to read the rest later.

/-/

Dennis woke with a start, realizing someone was in the room with him. It took him a long moment before he realized he was sitting in someone else's bed, and why. As soon as he remembered agreeing to stay in Gideon's spare bedroom, he felt his cheeks flush as his mind processed the scene before him.

Gideon Prewett was carrying in a tray of breakfast, a full fry-up, and more notably, it was a mostly-naked Gideon Prewett. Dennis swallowed. The older man was still in very good shape, probably from regular physical exercise and sparring required in his work. Dennis had never looked like that. He wasn't even sure his body had that many muscles, regardless of what shape they were in.

"You slept quite a while," Gideon said, completely unconcerned that they were both only in their underwear. Dennis adjusted the blanket over himself to try to mask his fairly typical first-thing morning erection. Somehow, in this scenario, he was ashamed of it, like it was resulting from something dirty. "I figured it was time to have something to eat. Wasn't sure what you wanted, so I put on some of everything."

"Do you have work today?" Dennis managed to ask. His tongue felt dry and heavy.

"Morning off," Gideon said. "Just paperwork and meetings in the afternoon, and then I was thinking, if you want to stick around, I've got some steaks to cook and a good wine I've been making excuses not to open. Always better to drink that sort of thing with company, don't you think?"

"Erm, yes," Dennis said. He didn't often drink alone, and certainly not wine.

"Great! I'll be done by five, you won't even notice I was gone. Feel free to explore when you're alone. Until then, have some breakfast. I'm going to shower."

Dennis hummed, and immediately thought of Gideon in the shower, attempting to not think of it as he cut his sausages. Maybe it was the fact that he was unattached, but he was thinking about sex. He didn't think of it this much when he was with Demelza, even alone with Demelza. It seemed a kind of mystery Dennis wasn't too particular about solving right away. Instead, he focused on enjoying his delicious breakfast and not anything else. When he did finish, he gathered up his things, and he went to take a shower, deciding it was the logical thing to do.

Gideon was just getting out, and instead of changing into his clothes while in the shower room, apparently Gideon wore a towel for the go-between. So, now he was muscled and with the sheen of a recent shower. Dennis blinked, seeing—trying not to see—how the sheen accentuated the differentiation in the muscles.

"Erm, is it all right if I…?"

He gestured to the shower, and Gideon laughed.

"Oh, sure. Use whatever you want. I was thinking of a cup of tea. Want one when you get out?"

"Erm, sure."

Dennis wasn't sure why, but he increasingly felt he ought to get used to being here.

 **A/N: So, Dennis and Demelza are over, Fred Weasley is scheming, and Gideon rears to strike.**

 **Review Prompt: Where d'you think Demelza's path away from the relationship will lead her? Where will Dennis's lead him?**

 **Q &A: Please give me questions to answer! It's a great motivating factor in churning the chapters.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


End file.
